A couple of months ago, we put together bunk beds for the boys. This will, almost certainly, result in a late night trip to the emergency room eventually. My guess is that shortly after learning how to get up to the top bed, Jackson will just as quickly learn how not to get down from the top bed.
Yet, even with this potential disaster looming, I feel I've achieved a great victory.
Prior to the bunk beds, I had told you how I had lost control of my OWN bed. No longer was my very expensive Tempurpetic bed for the graceful slumber of a sleep well-earned, nor was it to be designated for other more rigorous activities.
But now the tables have turned. I am glad to report that since the installation of said bunk beds, I have not had a child in my bed. Well, that’s not completely true, but there have been only a small handful of occasions. After installation, we had a solid two weeks of peace.
Glenn is very comfortable getting up and down, but has thus far shown an unwillingness to do so in the middle of the night. He has only wet the bed twice, and, after the first, I let him know he would be sleeping in his brother’s bed if he did it again. He did, and he did. Jackson was not pleased, but it was that or I could take Glenn to sleep with me in my bedroom.
More importantly, we have not had the struggles of nap time that I remember from Glenn. I was dreading teaching Jackson how to sleep in a big kid’s bed.
I remember Glenn going to a big bed and having to walk him back to bed for nap time about, oh, does a thousand times seem like I’m exaggerating too much? Jackson has had none of those challenges (knock on wood).
“Jackson, have you had a good afternoon?”
“I’m glad. Are you tired?”
“Do you want me to go?”
With that I get up and walk out of the room. It amazes me how different these two little kids can be in temperament. Logically, I can step back and tell you my sister and I are nothing alike. Sure we share some similarities, but you know what I mean. We are two different people. Just like Glenn and Jackson. Why do I keep expecting them to act the same?
Am I parenting them differently?
Not really. It just turns out that we are all different, and we begin showing those differences at a very early age.
The problem is that now I am paranoid. Having achieved the victory I so badly desired, I keep suspecting saboteurs to attack. Every night I go to bed, and I assume that the infestation of children is about to begin.
They will wait until there is a thunderstorm, the sneaky bastards, and creep into my room under the rouse of being scared. Only next time, when there is a next time, they will come in pairs. They will tell their mother that they are scared, or they want to cuddle, or whatever cockamamie schemes developed by children. She will fall for it, and I will be given even less room. It seems that Glenn is willing to have a temporary truce until that time.
I feel like a man 48 hours from death row. I have won the freedom of my bed back, but I know that this victory cannot be long lived. In the meantime, I just hope that the trip to the ER isn't as serious (or expensive) as I’m anticipating.