Ella's Open Door

Since she was about 8 weeks old, Ella has been sleeping in her own bed through the night.  We put her to bed sometime between 7pm and 8pm; and, until recently, she’d fall asleep quietly and sleep solidly until the morning, sometimes even after 7am.  Sure there were some instances where she’d cry for 30 seconds at 2am; but as quickly and randomly as that would start, it would end.  I chalked it up to her having some kind of slightly disturbing dream.

Not by her own choice, Ella was a door-closed sleeper.  We wanted to promote a quiet, peaceful zone for her to sleep; and with Cal not far down the hall from her, there was too much risk that quiet zone would be disrupted.  Plus, having the door closed made for a simple rule for Cal to follow – DO NOT OPEN ELLA’S DOOR, a rule he generally followed.  At any rate, at bedtime, we’d lay Ella in her crib, give the goodnight spiel and then leave her room, closing the door behind us.  This would be followed by silence… for the rest of the night.

Recently, Ella asked that her door be left open, a request that I thought was a simple tweak to the bedtime routine and one that I was certain would now not disrupt the routine’s effectiveness.  So, I left her door open, gave my goodnight spiel and then left her room without closing the door behind me.  The first night, this was followed by silence and a sleeping toddler.

Then she started talking about it minutes, sometimes hours in advance of bedtime.  “Leave the door open,” she’d say many times whether she was already in her crib for bed… or putting her jammies on… or sitting at the dinner table.  This, alone, is just annoying.  “Yes, Ella… we’ll leave the door open,” we respond with an “alright-already” tone.

Unfortunately, keeping the door open at bedtime has also brought us some troubles.  For one, Ella doesn’t like Zoe (our cat) to come into her room at night when Ella’s in her crib.  I’m not really sure why this is.  I mean, Ella is the unfortunate recipient of scratches from Zoe more often than anyone else in the house, but it’s generally accidental and never vicious in nature.  Ella loves Zoe, and I’m sure Zoe feels the same way about Ella.  “Zoe not come in my room,” she’ll say.  Initially I’d respond, “Well, your door is open, so Zoe might come into your room.  If you don’t want Zoe in your room, we need to shut the door.”  And then this would lead to a heated back-and-forth between the two of us about what we were going to do with the darn door and Zoe.  This inevitably ended with me exiting Ella’s room, leaving the door open and grabbing Zoe to take her downstairs with me.

I tired of this fairly quickly and decided to play a game of odds and just agree with Ella that Zoe would not come into her room at night even with the door open.  For the most part, this approach worked pretty well – our pre-bedtime conversation was cut short and Zoe usually didn’t go into her room.  When she did, I’d hear about it.  “Mommy, Zoe’s in my room!”  Ella would exclaim when Zoe did make her way into Ella’s room at night.  “Mommy, Zoe’s in my room!”  she’d repeat.  I had no choice but to go get the cat.  As I did, I couldn’t leave it at just retrieving her; I found myself complaining to Ella about the whole situation, that this is what happens when we leave the door open… we should really shut the door… she needs to choose between the door open and the cat out of the room… this is ridiculous.  Her response was consistently, “Leave the door open,” and “Zoe not come in my room.”  In one ear and out the other.   And like a good mommy being totally controlled by her 2-year-old, I left with the cat in hand and the door open.

It is from this that I believe Ella learned that she could speak from her bed and be heard.  She made attempts at engaging Cal in conversation from their respective beds.  When Cal didn’t bite, she started making things up.  All of a sudden, it was very important that she sleep with big Minnie… or with her pink blankie on top of her usual “blue” (mostly white but with blue-tipped edges) knit blankie… or with her fan on… or with her closet light on as if her bright nightlight just wasn’t comforting enough.  “Mommy!” she’d exclaim. 

“Mommy!”

“Mommy!”

“Mommy!”

“Mommy!”

I wait to respond as if I have some magic number in my head for how many times I hear Ella call for me before responding or heading back to her room.  (I don’t – it’s generally just as much as I can tolerate that evening.)  At my break point, I head back to her room to fulfill her request and then lay down this law, “Ellie, if you cry or if you talk to us when it’s time to sleep, we’re going to have to shut your door.”

Oddly, this usually works.  Of course, like leaving the door open and Zoe not coming in her room, she talks about this sometimes well in advance of bedtime, other times as we lay her down for bedtime.  While I’m saying, “I love you and I’m proud of you, Baby Girl.  Have big dreams, get lots of sleep, you’re going to change the world,” she’s saying in parallel, “Leave the door open.  Zoe not come in my room.  If I cry, you shut the door.”  I don’t think she ever really hears what I have to say to her at night other than things about the door and Zoe.

We’ll never know if it was the door-closed routine or just Ella getting older and exercising her right to choice that brought on the bedtime back-and-forth.  I do miss the days when we didn’t have it, but I guess it’s really just a little additional banter.  In the end, she’s still a pretty good sleeper… once she gets there… which isn’t too much longer than it used to be… not really… but do we have to talk about leaving the door open so much?

Baby Bear Makes His Bed

It was only within the last month or so that Cal got a big-boy bed with a top sheet to be tucked in, two pillows and a warm comforter.  For the first 4-1/4 years of his life, he slept on a crib/toddler-bed-sized mattress about 6 inches off the floor.  This thing needed only a bottom sheet and barely had room for only one pillow.  We just threw a blanket on top of Cal at night as he slept, and this blanket remained wadded up (sometimes folded, if I felt the urge) throughout the day until bedtime the next night.

Cal’s big-boy bed is BIG.  My feet don’t even come close to hitting the ground when I sit on it.  When he first got it, Cal needed a stool to get onto it.  Now he’s learned he can just step on the bedframe and pull himself up.

This morning, Cal watched me make my bed, something I do every day.  I’m not sure why he took particular interest in it today – I’m certain he’s seen me do this before.  Anyway, he asked me, “what are you doing?”

“Making my bed,” I replied.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I like to have a made bed and get into a made bed at night,” I told him.

“I’m going to make my bed,” he then said and darted off to his room.

A few minutes later I heard him yell, “Mommy, come see my bed!”

I, of course, obliged immediately.  On many occasions, my kids have presented me with an “accomplishment” so very ordinary or, frankly, unimpressive that I find myself having to dig really deep to muster an enthusiastic, prideful response to them.  This… this self-initiated bed-making feat could be something worthy of my sincere pride in his real accomplishment.  Even better, I had a captive audience at that moment – my kid was interested in and taking initiative to make his bed himself.  I had to jump on this good-habit-making, independence-building moment.

I walked into his room to find him standing on the side of his bed, and Dan and Ella standing at the foot of it.  Cal looked at me, proud smile plastered across his face, “See, Mommy.”

What I saw really was impressive.  Notre Dame comforter pulled up relatively straight and wrinkle-free.  Notre Dame-trimmed pillows neatly placed at the headboard.  I don't know if Dan helped him in any way and didn't ask.

“That IS really good, Cal!  I am SO PROUD of you!”  I said with tons of excitement and pride, all genuine.

He left his room, and I peeked under the comforter, not at all to judge but just to know.  Under his comforter, his top sheet was pulled up most of the way and a little cockeyed, I’m sure as best as he could do given his little reach.  I gave his sheets a whiff, and they smelled a little of urine (he’s in an Underjam at night and often pees through it) and needed to be washed.  But not at that moment.  That would come later after he was gone to school.  At that moment, his bed needed to stay made.

A Leatherkid Kind of Morning

Cal arose from his makeshift bed on the floor next to our bed at what I thought to be after 7am today.  I don't remember exactly what he said after uttering "Mommy" as he peeked over the top of my bed, his eyes just-woken-up puffy looking at me.  But he was talking about something.  Eventually, I found myself engaged in this conversation with him:

Cal: "If you have grey hair and you're old, you're going to die."

Me <uncomfortable with how casual he was with the topic>: "No, that's not really true.  We don't need to talk about stuff like that."

Cal: "Nanny had grey hair.  She died when I was born."

Me: "Well, you were 8 months old <a clarification that was probably not needed>, and she was 94 years old.  She lived pretty long -- that's pretty old."

While I was having this wonderful conversation with Cal, Dan was getting Ella out of her crib (yes, at 2-1/2 still in a crib) and taking her potty.  Once finished, Dan marched an undied Ella into our room to join the "fun" and climbed back into bed next to me.  Nuts! I thought.  He had no plans to take the kids downstairs and let me sleep in.

Still lying in bed, groggy and foolishly believing I was relaxing and didn't need to get up yet, I thought maybe they'll play together for a bit.  They did, noisily.  At one point I popped up to peek at the goings on at the foot of our bed and saw a now bare-bunned Ella smiling wearing her undies on her head... and face.  It looked like she had on one of those contraptions you might see in one of the "Saw" movies.  Nice.

The next thing I knew, a long-sleeved button-down shirt was being shoved in my face.  "Mommy, can you put my shirt on me?" Cal was on the other end of it.  I responded, "Okay," ignoring natural questions popping into my head like long sleeves in the August heat? and a button-down shirt on a lazy Sunday? and proceeded to unbutton it so I could put it on him.

As quickly as he was handing the shirt to me, Cal was changing his mind.  "Nevermind.  I don't want to wear that shirt."  Fine by me.

Meanwhile, Ella was standing next to me (still in bed) saying something important:

Ella <pointing to her undies, now back on her buns>: "I don't have peanuts in there."

Me: "No, you don't have a penis."

Ella: "Cal Daniel have peanuts."

Me: "Yes, Cal Daniel has a penis."

Ella: "I don't have peanuts."

And then I looked at my watch.  6:54am.  Ugh. Only 6:54am... so much more time in my day than I originally thought... so much more time for more Leatherkidisms... I am a lucky mommy.