Children & Musical Beds

Tonight has been amusing, and sad, when it came to the kids' bedtime.

First, Ellie went into Marty's room to watch Winne the Pooh instead of watching Big Comfy Couch, as she requested, on her own TV.

Then, Marty demanded to be snuggled and rocked to sleep, per usual.  While rocking Marty in the living room, he suddenly got his second wind and squirmed down to run through the house.  After a few minutes, I realized that it was awfully quiet back there where the kids' rooms are, and I went to see what was going on.
Ellie had managed to curl up in Marty's toddler bed, which looks like a yellow VW Bug, roof and all, and had gone to sleep.  Marty was in Ellie's twin bed with the covers pulled up to his chin!  Fortunately, he was still awake.

Husband got Marty out of his sister's bed, and I extracted the soundly sleeping 5.5 year old from her baby brother's bed.  I put Ellie in her own bed and tucked her in - still sound asleep.

Marty had a wet diaper, so I took him into his room to change him.  He said several times, "bed, bed," and "Pooh!  Pooh!"  I decided to be cute and tucked him into his bed, not expecting him to stay there (he never has before), and started Winne-the-Pooh over.

I went back to the living room and sat in the chair, waiting for him to come running in.  He hadn't shown up by the next commercial break, so I went back to have a looksee.  He was asleep!  He went to sleep in his own bed, by himself, for the first time ever!

On the one hand, I'm proud that he's such a big boy.  On the other hand, I'm sad - Ellie didn't start going to sleep by herself until she was 3.5 years old.  I missed rocking my little man tonight.  My babies are growing up so fast!  But that's why I've never tried to "sleep train" either of them, because I knew that one day they wouldn't want to be rocked any more, and I would never have that joy again.  My heart aches, both with pride and longing.

Where Have I Been?

Where have I been the past three years?  Tonight, lying in Ellie's bed while she "wooled" (ie loved all over) me, I was struck by a sudden sensation of vertigo.  I remember clearly her first two years, my sweet baby growing into a happy and loving toddler.  Now, here, cuddling and wrestling with me, is a young girl.  The time between her first two years and here, tonight, is a blur.  Mostly a dark blur.  Have I been that depressed, for that long?  Am I only now getting my feet back under me and my head in order?  Where did the past three years go?  I remember bits and snatches if I focus and try, but the last three years are not the cohesive, flowing memory of her first two years.

I feel like Rip Van Winkle, waking up in a world that is both familiar and strange.  It's the same feeling that you get when you're driving down a road you've driven a hundred times before and you suddenly notice something that your eyes have always glided past - a barn set back in the middle of a field, the name of a little store, the color and detail of a house that never before caught your attention - and, just as suddenly, a tendril of fear.  You don't know where you are on this road you've driven over and over.  You've been startled out of your driving reverie.  This thing that you've unexpectedly noticed is not tied in your mind to any other landmark on your previously familiar journey.  You are lost, until you find your next usually noticed point - the stoplight, the gas station, the big blue house on the corner - and relief washes over you.  Now you know where you are.

But I don't know where I am, or where this road will lead.  I've been on autopilot, and tonight I suddenly realized that I've taken too much for granted.  I haven't looked around.  I haven't made landmarks.  I've been lost.

Now I know I was lost, though, which is an improvement.