Sep
7
I’ve been hemming and hawing for a while over putting Dylan in a big kid bed. On the one hand, why on earth would I ever take a feral 2-year-old out of what is basically a socially acceptable cage? On the other hand, he’s been waking up so often lately—all twisted and turned around in his crib and just sort of randomly blatting for no apparent reason—I started thinking a larger bed might actually result in more sleep for everyone.
We talked about giving him a full-sized bed like what Riley has, but I found an inexpensive toddler frame on Amazon and decided that since we could continue using the crib mattress, that would be our cheapest option for now.
It arrived last Saturday and once JB had it assembled, I couldn’t believe how cute and wee it was. Like a doll bed, almost, with the cozy little built-in rails and everything. It wasn’t until Dylan actually climbed on it that it finally occurred to me that what I’d purchased was the exact same thing as a crib—same fucking dimensions to a T, since it, you know, held the crib MATTRESS—except now he could get out of the damn thing.
Well, I don’t want to jinx it, but it’s actually gone really well. He did fall out a couple times until I shoved it against a wall and stuck a soft chair against the other side, and I still go in every once in a while to re-cover him and give him a little comforting butt-pat when he wakes up at night, but overall he’s doing just fine.
And by that I mean it doesn’t seem to occur to him that he can just climb out whenever he wants. Riley was the exact same way, he’d just wait in the middle of the bed each morning for us to come in and pick him up. WIN.
We re-arranged his room a bit, added a bookshelf and a whiteboard for homeschool stuff, and he’s officially got himself a big kid room now. All traces of nursery are gone, except for the changing table.
(Sorry that second image is weird, it’s auto-stitched from a few cellphone images and it left a missing block in the upper left. I know it looks like I photoshopped out some shameful thing on the wall, like maybe a Nagel print or something, but I swear I didn’t.)
It was kind of a sad process to take the crib apart and pack it away, knowing we’re never going to use it again. Not really sad because I want more babies, mind you, just . . . oh, you know. Bittersweet.
So I have a question for you—we have always planned to give our crib to JB’s brother and his wife, since they plan to start a family soon and they’ve expressed interest in it. It’s a lovely crib, but it’s a drop-side, and as you may know pretty much every drop-side crib on the planet has been recalled because babies can apparently get crammed in a gap created by the side if the hardware fails and it detaches from the crib. Or something like that.
Should I let them know about the recalls and let them decide? Or would you play it uber-safe and burn the crib with fire and salt the earth afterwards, because jesus, you never know?
Sep
6
We started taking Riley to daycare when he was 3 months old, right when my maternity leave ended. I can still remember that first day, how brutal it was. I soon learned that it was better to hand him over to a kindly teacher or install him in a swing, but on that day I didn’t really know what to do and so I clumsily arranged him in one of the cribs and that’s where I left him, horrified by how small and alone he looked in there.
The staff hovered around me sympathetically, clucking and handing me tissues, as I sobbed my way out to the car.
It was awful, that first day, but it got better. The teachers were always very kind, the turnover was very low. Riley went from the infant room to the “woddler” room to the toddler room to the preschool room to the pre-K room. Dylan was a couple years behind, being held by some of the very same teachers who rocked Riley to sleep when he was little.
In five years, we’ve had few complaints about this care center. There was a brief time when they were understaffed where things weren’t being handled well—we were arriving to scenes of chaos and unchanged diapers for a week or two—but they resolved it quickly and we never saw anything like that again.
The place that has been such a positive part of our lives all this time is a KinderCare. I tell you this because I know when I was first looking into child care I thought of KinderCares as being crappy infant veal pens, probably staffed by dead-eyed ex-McDonald’s employees. Children would be milling around aimlessly, sobbing and filthy, while the franchise owner cackled and counted her thousand-dollar bills. Surely a private Montessori dayhome that offered immersive Mandarin and viola lessons would be the better choice. Only an uncaring parent would drop their precious child off at something called a “childcare facility“, right?
Well, I know every center is different, but our KinderCare has been absolutely wonderful. I could not have asked for a better team of loving, trustworthy people to teach, care for, and love our children over the years.
Last Friday was the boys’ final day at school, and while I’m so happy to be taking on a new routine, it was hard to say goodbye. One of Dylan’s teachers actually cried as we left, pulling him tight for one more hug.
A final look at Riley’s class:
And Dylan’s:
We made treat bags for Riley’s classmates, and thank you gifts for all their teachers.
Doors open, doors close. It’s all part of moving on to the next good thing.
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