A few weeks ago I put Mabrey down for her afternoon nap and jumped in the shower. I hadn’t even wet my hair when she threw back the shower curtain and said, “Hi mom! I get outta my bed.” She had climbed out of her crib for the first time ever. She was so proud. I was so, so sad. There went my babygirl and my opportune shower time. Sniffle, sniffle.
Needless to say, we skipped naptime that day and later on in the evening I converted the crib to a toddler bed. For those who don’t know already, it’s the Ikea GULLIVER crib and I have nothing but good things to say about it. It’s affordable, practical and has clean lines & a small footprint. The ability to convert to a toddler bed was the final selling point for me.
Removing the one side was quick & easy. It took me all of twenty minutes. My favorite thing about it was that other than the accompanying toddler side rail (which I stashed in the nursery closet for the past two years), I didn’t have to keep track of any other parts or hardware. All of the hardware I removed was used again to install the toddler side rail. LOVE THAT. I slid the crib rail I removed in behind the standing shelf in Mabrey’s closet. It barely takes up any space. DOUBLE LOVE THAT.
The crib-to-toddler-bed conversion left me feeling sentimental and a bit lost. Sentimental because I’ll never put a child of mine to bed in a crib ever again. Lost because, even though I have two older kids, this was my first experience with a climbing toddler. Neither of my boys ever showed interest in climbing out of their crib. They were both 3+ years old when I transitioned them to a twin bed in preparation for a subsequent baby’s birth. And they each handled the transition beautifully.
I’d like to say the same for Mabrey, age 2¾. She did really well the first week. I think she was just so smitten with the idea of sleeping in a “big kid” bed, she wanted to do it right. But, lo and behold, last week was rough. It was like she went to bed one night and something clicked.
Heyyyyyyyy. Wait a minute. I can get up whenever I want. I can get up WHENEVER I WANT. And turn on all of the things! And take off all of the things! And climb all of the things! And never sleep! And party all night long!! Yeah, let’s do that.
Steve was out of town last week. Figures. When he’s gone, Everett gets a little daddysick and likes to wake me up in the middle of the night to tell me his foot hurts and the only thing that will make it better is sleeping in my bed. I don’t mind. He goes right to sleep. But when he came into my room one night last week (for the second time that night), I had already been up with Mabrey a half-dozen times or more each night for the past several nights (including that night) and was on the verge of livid-exhausted. If you’re a parent, you know that feeling. You are so, so tired and you’re mad that you’re tired. You’re so mad about being tired that your anger wires you and the only thing you can do is lay frozen in bed thinking about how tired-mad you are and what you wouldn’t give for just five hours of solid sleep. Until another little person walks into your room or the baby starts crying again. Sleep deprivation. It’s a torturous thing.
Anyway, I hadn’t an ounce of sympathy for Everett’s daddy-missing foot. Gruffly, I told him to get in bed with me and go to sleep. Then I cursed Steve. Because somehow it was his fault that Everett’s foot was heartbroken and Mabrey was participating in what can only be described as “Girls Gone Wild Toddler Edition.”
By mid-week, I had removed the rocker and all lightbulbs from the nursery and was contemplating a padded room. Mabrey was miserable. She hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in over a week. She’s normally a very happy-go-lucky kid but had melted into a whiny bag of overtiredness. I was at my wits’ end. Then, I think out of sheer exhaustion, Mabrey finally slept through the night. As did I. Uninterrupted sleep is pure bliss.
We’ve had a few nights in a row of good, long sleeps. Mabrey is back to her cheery, cheeky self. Steve is home. Everett’s foot is miraculously pain-free. I think we’ve turned the corner. Fingers crossed.
I thought I’d share some pictures of the changes in Mabrey’s room now that we’re all in a better place ;) Don’t let her cuteness fool you. She was a hot mess less than a week ago!
The highlight of the transition has been bringing out the heirloom quilt my grandma gave me last year. Doesn’t it look like it was made just for this room? It was made by my great-grandmother, Mabrey’s great-great grandmother. Mabrey is her namesake. My great-grandmother’s maiden name was Larew which is Mabrey’s middle name. That quilt is pretty special.
I hung the Bright Lab lights months ago. I’ve mentioned them on instagram but don’t think they’ve been formally introduced on the blog.
Ironically enough, they are dubbed the Party Girl lights. How fitting.
The rocker is still in the living room. I’m not taking any chances.
In summary, the physical conversion of the crib to a toddler bed was smooth sailing. The actual transition? Notsomuch.
I’d love to hear your experience with the crib-to-bed transition. Was it an easy or difficult milestone? At what age did you switch your child(ren)? Was it different for each child? Did you use any sneaky tricks?
Sweet dreams all around! And if not, there’s always Go the F**k to Sleep. No, Seriously, Just Go to Sleep.
images: Dana Miller for House*Tweaking
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