There's a song in the musical "Ragtime" called "
Back to Before." It's one of my favorites, talking about how, once you've been exposed to one way of thinking you can never again think the way you previously thought. That's what I was singing to myself when it was 9:30 last nite, and Jones had been in bed for two hours but still hadn't fallen asleep. Jeremy asked, "Should we just put the crib back together?" I didn't respond to him but thought to myself, in my best Marin Mazzie impression (
which isn't a very good one, by the way), "We can NEVER go back to be-foooorrreeee."
You're probably gonna need some backstory to understand parts of that paragraph. Last I posted, the crib was still standing alongside the "big boy bed" in all its John Deere regalia.
Well, yesterday, that all changed.
The boys and I had come in from the park, and it was nap time. Jones told me his firetruck was sleepy. Unluckily for Jones, I learned at the beach that he won't go to sleep with that firetruck in his bed, so I told him it could sleep on his shelf or in his big boy bed but not in his crib with Jones. Hearing that the firetruck was sleeping in the big boy bed, Jones climbed in, too. No tears. No singing. No anything other than "Where he is, there I will be also." In not so many words.
I made sure he understood that, if he got up, he'd be in big trouble. I then sat outside of his closed door, and while he didn't get up, he DID keep talking to his firetruck, so I went in and put the firetruck on a shelf where I thought he couldn't get it. Ten minutes later, he got it. Stealth little sucker got out of bed and climbed up to the truck without me even hearing him, until I went in to check on him and saw him standing there.
After the promised punishment, he got back in the bed, where he stayed, quietly (but not asleep), until I went in to get him up an hour or so later. I saw this as my chance to make the break with the crib, like when Camden said he wanted to give his papi to Payton, and Sissy used it as an excuse to rid him of the "fakers" that he'd double fisted since birth.
As Jones and Freddie played post-naps, I took the crib apart and carried it down to the basement. Jones didn't seem fazed at all by this. In fact, he and Freddie were in Jones's room, playing on the new bed, while I took down the old one. Jones would say, "It BOOM, Mama!" every time one of the crib walls fell.
At bedtime, I expected a fight. There was none. We sang, as usual. He then walked over to his bed and climbed up and in. He stayed there, too - I kept walking back every so often for two hours, and he never fell asleep, though he never got up, either. When I went back about 9:30, he was still awake, saw me peep in (
trying to get a picture, if the truth be told), and started the waterworks.
He was then up ... I don't know ... SIX? times in quick succession. Each time, I'd punish him and put him straight back in the bed. He'd immediately jump up and run to the door again, waking up Freddie in the process.
That's when Jeremy asked about putting the crib back up. It'd have been so much easier, but I also knew "we could never go back to before." The toothpaste was out of the tube. Our little boy is all grows up, and there's no undoing that now.
So after about six or so rapid-fire jump-ups, he just didn't get up again. He just stayed there, finally sleeping. A little later, I took the air mattress in to lay beside his bed (
just in case). When I walked back into the den, I passed the giant canvas of his newborn picture. I kind of lost it.
Jones was none the wiser. He just stayed in his bed, sweetly sleeping, until I went in and got him up this morning. Even when Jeremy and Freddie paraded by his partially open door around 6:45, Jones stayed in his bed, talking to the tractors on his sheets, and waiting for his mama, just as he'd been told to do.
When I went in, we cuckled on the new fleece on his new bed. I told him how incredibly proud I was of his obedience, and he jumped all over the bed before asking if he could get up. Jones Pressley is a VERY good boy, and I really AM incredibly proud of him.
Still, I dreaded today's nap time. He did great, though. It took about 45 minutes for him to fall asleep, but he never got up, and tonite, he went to bed with no fanfare whatsoever. I honestly can't believe how much easier this transition was than I thought it'd be.
I shouldn't be surprised. I've been praying about it, since the first time (
one of only two) that Jones jumped out of his crib several months ago. Why should it surprise me that God eased the transition like I asked Him to? Oh, me of little faith ...
Now, I fully expect to go get Freddie up one day soon. He'll widen his eyes, tilt his head, and softly say, "Big boy?" THAT transition, however, is gonna take a LOT more prayer.
The boys and I had come in from the park, and it was nap time. Jones told me his firetruck was sleepy. Unluckily for Jones, I learned at the beach that he won't go to sleep with that firetruck in his bed, so I told him it could sleep on his shelf or in his big boy bed but not in his crib with Jones. Hearing that the firetruck was sleeping in the big boy bed, Jones climbed in, too. No tears. No singing. No anything other than "Where he is, there I will be also." In not so many words.
After the promised punishment, he got back in the bed, where he stayed, quietly (but not asleep), until I went in to get him up an hour or so later. I saw this as my chance to make the break with the crib, like when Camden said he wanted to give his papi to Payton, and Sissy used it as an excuse to rid him of the "fakers" that he'd double fisted since birth.
He was then up ... I don't know ... SIX? times in quick succession. Each time, I'd punish him and put him straight back in the bed. He'd immediately jump up and run to the door again, waking up Freddie in the process.
Still, I dreaded today's nap time. He did great, though. It took about 45 minutes for him to fall asleep, but he never got up, and tonite, he went to bed with no fanfare whatsoever. I honestly can't believe how much easier this transition was than I thought it'd be.
That made me think even more about artistry of God. Jones and Freddie were drawn from the exact same genetic pool, yet they look nothing alike. God can take the "raw material" - in this case, my DNA and Jeremy's - and make from it an unending number of variations. Had Jeremy and I had a passenger van full of kids, they'd all have been unique, individual creations made from the exact same materials. Like a jazz musician improvising on a theme, God is truly the great Creator, unlimited in both His imagination and His power.
We celebrated Freddie's dedication yesterday. 
Because of our upcoming trip to Disney (6 more days!), I'd been planning to do a vintage Mouseketeer theme for the party. I lived with the idea for several months and never felt any inspiration whatsoever, so about a month ago, when the time came to pick a date and start the actual planning, Jeremy and I decided on a "Boy of Fall" theme, which both encapsulated one of the nicknames we've used for Jones, since finding out his autumnal due date, and allowed us to incorporate watching football into the party. Right or wrong, we only get twelve good weeks of it every year, so we're pretty unwilling to give up any of them (thus the fact that we consulted the SEC schedule before planning our wedding and had a big screen TV at our reception).
