I read an article today about children and their wonderful sleeping habits. Imagine my "surprise" to see the headline reading "Toddlers and Preschoolers: Just When You Thought It Couldn’t Get Any Worse" over the section about kids Mia’s age. Great. No light at the end of the tunnel here.
Switching from a crib to a toddler bed was a good idea–in theory. In reality, Mia’s constant getting up out of bed whenever she damn well pleases is just not working for me. I’m soooo tired. What happened to the angel baby who would smile contentedly when laid in the crib and drift off to dreamland on her own? Now I’m logging close to an hour a night just laying uncomfortably by the side of her fabulous princess bed while she fights sleep tooth and nail.
And here’s the worst part: ever since she was born, Mia is comforted by twirling my hair. If the child has a fistful of my hair, she is quiet and calm and eventually lulled to sleep. Logic would tell us to get her a doll with lovely blonde hair as a substitute, but the truth is, we’re all afraid of dolls around here. Deathly afraid.
Cheyenne in particular is so scared, we’ve had to force several beautiful porcelain dolls given to her by well-meaning relatives into hiding–in a box within a box tucked away in the corner of the attic. Although, my thought is if the dolls are in fact killer dolls, no rubber-maid prison will hold them.
But I get off track.