Friday, August 10, 2012

Flashback Fridays (or the poop story)

Okay, so I was debating what to use for today's Flashback when I got an email from a triplet momma.  Her trio are climbing out of their cribs, not yet two, and she wanted to find out the latest on the drama of my crib conversion and if I had any tips for her.  I had to laugh.  I about the worst role model you could have for the change from cribs to big kid beds.  So I thought I would give you a progress report and then flashback to the story that people still stop me to talk about. 

It was mid-February when our nights began to unravel.  I was not comfortable using crib tents and the kids could all climb out of their cribs, even with the mattress on the floor, so we decided to convert to big kid beds.  How bad could it be right?  Here's a summary of how the insanity unfolded that first week. 

We've gone back and forth since then.  We've gone back to cribs, with them turned around so the high part is in front, and the mattress on the floor, but eventually, since our children could scale a 40 story glass downtown building, they made their way out.  They also, FYI, can climb the baby gate in front of their door so they basically can make their way out like lunatics in the house (and they can unlock the doors and open them so we're always in lock down mode at the house).  Bed time is still hard.  We start to bed about 7:45 and they go to sleep sometime between 9 and 10 pm.  They have ripped apart their dresser.  They have torn their closet to shreds.  They have nearly broken their wooden beds.  They have colored on the walls (and no, I have no idea where the crayon came from, it's like they're prisoners smuggling in contraband).  We've tried everything.  They stay up later, and they still wake up before 7 am.  They've skipped naps, nights are still chaotic, possibly more so.  They turn three in October and I'm just hoping as they age it will die down.  Last night they all climbed over the baby gate (we can't shut their door, they FLIP out, we clearly should have done it when they were younger but that ship has sailed), and just came out in the living room to hang with us.  It was 9 pm. 

So that's the update.  Don't let these smiling faces fool you, they do not stay like this:

And here's the infamous flashback.  It was written on February 19, 2012, and entitled Insert Expletive Here:

I realize I post a lot about my faith and God's hand in our journey. So I also realize I'm not allowed to curse because it sends a bad message for someone who writes about faith and family to have four letter words on her blog. However, the most restraint I can use tonight is for you to use the expletive that you think most fitting given your background. It may be that is, "gracious." I assure you, regardless of my personal Christianity, I am human and that is not the word running through my head tonight.

As you know from this week's post, we converted to big kid beds last weekend. Harrowing is not nearly descriptive enough of a word. Yesterday, instead of nap time, the eldest took off his poopy diaper (the disastrous turn potty training has taken is a whole other issue), and the boys proceeded to spread the poop all the floor (beige carpet), doors and each other. After a day of work, we still can't get it out of the carpet though the blankets and doors (and skin) has been restored. Despite running them like dogs at the Aquarium this morning, which was, in and of itself, a fun adventure, only the baby took a nap. I am not willing to part with naps at 28 months. Especially when, at 8 pm tonight, they are still running around hopping from bed to bed while Bray sits with them (when I threw Piglet at the completely defiant little lady we realized it was time for me to leave the room). We tried to bathe them to calm them down, but while trying to get their p.j.s, the little lady took the contents of the potty chair and poured it on our floor while the baby crawled into the fireplace to play in the soot.

There are no words to express the incredible frustration, anger, dismay, and Titanic sense of sinking in our household. Bray and I are taking turns losing our temper at least so that one of us steps in when the other one literally can not take one more minute of this naked disobedience and destruction. We can't really process tips right now, we're in sheer survival mode, but we'll take prayers.

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