Thursday, April 23, 2009

Another brilliant parenting moment

As of today our kitchen remodeling project is in progress, and I promise more exciting details and even pictures soon. But yesterday I was a wreck, tired from staying up too late the night before to empty the kitchen of its contents, and anxious over le Petit's new talent as an escape artist.

Would my kitchen ever be emptied in time? Would le Petit vault from his crib in the middle of the night and rummage through the boxes littering the living room? The anxiety kept me tossing and turning into the wee hours, even while le Petit slept like a baby like a hungover college student in the room next door. So by Wednesday afternoon I was exhausted and clinging to the hope that nap time would give me the time I needed to rest, regroup and reorganize.

Le Petit had other ideas. Immediately after I put him in his crib he managed to pull himself up to a precarious perch on the rail despite the thin mattress I'd borrowed from his pack n' play. Oh no. I was hoping that mattress would buy me another month of tranquility, but instead it made his crib even more dangerous.

I helped le Petit out, then stretched out on the mattress next to his crib and pleaded, "Come over here and sleep next to Mommy." I needed a nap badly myself, after all; it seemed like a workable compromise.

Meanwhile le Petit started running around the room at full speed, scooping up toys and showing no signs of winding down. I buried my head in a pillow and yelled "@#!&."

"@#!&" repeated le Petit in his adorable toddler voice. "@#!&, @#!&, @#!&!" he chanted as he bounced on the mattress.

"Please don't say that word, it's not..." I protested weakly as he jumped on my back, "...very nice." I started to cry dramatically and pound the mattress with my fists, but it sounded like laughter to le Petit and he joined in giggling.

After some more useless pleading, I abandoned hope of nap time and took le Petit into the living room. I grabbed the phone, called my best friend and sobbed. (I think she's getting used to this.)

I'm doing better now. Le Petit is sleeping in his crib at night with the old, thicker mattress, and the floor beside him is protected with two mattresses, a mound of pillows and an old comforter. He hasn't tried to climb out at night if we go get him promptly in the morning. We're going to buy a bedrail and a lock for the kitchen door this weekend, take the side off the crib and try the transition to the Big Boy Bed.

Wish me luck.


Goddess Babe said...

Yes, I believe it is in the job description of "best friend" to listen to impassioned rants, gasp over things that nobody else can understand, and, yes, pick up the phone for a sobbing friend and work together on what's next. Did I mention listening to babbling? Oh, wait, that's the job description of MY best friend. :)

caramama said...

Sounds like an afternoon at my house, minus even attempting a crib. And I'm sooooo sorry for you and others who go through it.

Good luck with the crib and the transition! And the kitchen remodel!