Movin' the beds around

We've known that Nathan needed to move to a twin size bed for a while now.  His little feet were hanging off the toddler bed and he ended up in our bed every night because he didn't like the feel of his bed.  "It's not soft like yours, mom."  He was lying on a crib mattress.  They're meant to prevent SIDS in infants.  Nathan is almost 5.

It was time.

The bedroom situation is going to drastically change eventually.  I'm planning on moving K to the smaller room and letting the boys share the larger room.  But for now, Nathan and Katherine are sharing the new beds we got them - bunk beds - and Brandon has moved to the toddler bed.

 

Side story: Brandon was doing wonderful in his crib.  When it was time to sleep, most of the time he would wave goodbye with his right hand and his left thumb propped half-way in his mouth and word, "Goodnight mommy, I wuv you.  Sweet dreams."  So I didn't feel the pressure to move him to the toddler bed like I did for Nathan.

I digressed.

Bunk beds are so cool.  I remember loving them myself.  We have a daughter that is content with waiting on the move into her own room for now, because of the coolness of the bunk beds.  And, to make it even cooler, she's sleeping on top.

The plan is to have the boys eventually share the bunk beds, with Nathan moving to the top and little guy moving to the bottom when he's outgrown the toddler bed.

I love changing our home's interior.  Stagnant layouts, dated decorations and old setups cause me to feel like we're stuck with what we have.  Repurposing, redesigning and reusing is my answer to not feeling stuck.  And our children have picked up on it.  Katherine has begun asking about once a week if we can re-arrange someone's room. :)

No more sweet little girl's girly room.  It's sharing with the bro for now.

No room in the bed

Just in case you run into Jim or I and we look a little worn, tired, sleep-deprived or ragged, this will explain it...

How, just how, is anybody supposed to get descent sleep here with these two cuddle bunnies around?

p.s. Katherine is here sitting next to me and as she read me typing the title of this post, "No room in the bed" she aptly pointed out, "Well there's actually room there for you to sleep?"

The Boyer Frat House

Back when we updated our bedroom, one of our splurge purchases was a bed frame. It was a "splurge" because I picked one out at the used furniture place, delivered it home in the back of Jim's truck, and we assembled it ourselves. One minor important detail that was not noticeable while on the "showroom" floor, was it's short cross-beam that ran the length of the bed.

Why would a cross-beam be so important Kel, you might ask? Well, with a King-sized bed, the box frame is actually two twin bed box frames and that cross-beam holds both of them up.

Oh, so why bring up it being short? It's length is important because it essentially holds the bed up. We learned early on that if the fan was on too high and the wind was just right, that short cross-beam would slip out of position and the bed ended up half on the floor, half still intact. Fun times.

The last time our bed "broke" was because one of our children came running in and did the 30-pound pile drive on it. Thirty pounds really isn't a big deal, but when you're dealing with a short cross-beam, it is all of a sudden. So, minutes before bedtime, our bed half falls down and wouldn't you know it, the man who is capable of falling asleep on an airboat WHILE IT IS RUNNING (no really, he did), fell asleep on the half up, half down bed.

I tried to sleep on it. I really did. But this self-proclaimed Princess and the Pea just was not capable of sleeping on a crooked bed. So, I packed up ALL of my pillows and set up camp in Katherine's bed.

The next morning I approached the I-can-sleep-anywhere man and asked him why he didn't fix the bed before falling asleep. (It takes strong arms, stomach muscles and a strong back to lift the mattress and box springs to fix it and I'm officially out of commission in the heavy-lifting department).

His response...

"I was tired."

Can you believe that? For one, he's capable of answering a question in three measly words, that most women would turn into a dissertation, and two, it really was that simple in his world.

Well, I stifled the disgust and jealousy and calmly replied, "James Boyer, this is no frat house, and I'd rather not have it be treated as such."

This is when I sometimes say things that I'm not quite sure of how they will be received. Because sometimes my frankness comes across as a bit, "witchy" and other times, he thinks it's hilarious. Like the time soon after we were married, he was berating me about finances and spending $2.11 each day on lunch at Subway. I had had enough and I angrily called him a Communist Tyrant. It easily could have gone either way: spur him on into a good argument, or as it ended up, he burst out in laughter and wore his new title with much pride.

So as the frat house comment easily flowed from my mouth, the anticipation of waiting for his reaction was short-lived because he again: burst out into laughter. He has very fond memories of the filthy, college-male dominated giant keg he called home for years. Me, not so much. He was by far the cleanest one that lived there, but it did have an odor and all the men admitted that each year it was just easier to paint the walls rather than clean them.

It wasn't much longer into the day that I walked back toward the bedroom and found this on our door, with a daddy and two giggling kids hiding under the covers of the repaired bed:
Very cute. I had a good laugh along with the kiddos who were oblivious to its meaning, but the wiser owl of the two started asking questions and when she realized it said no Mommys were allowed, she decided to fix it, on her own, with no assistance. The next day, the sign looked like this:
There might not be any free-flowing booze around here, but we are most certainly drunk on love.

Nathan update

It's been so long since blogging, and I officially spent 2 hours tonight uploading pictures, doing some minor editing and writing out a list of 13 topics I could easily write about. If only I had a whole day to devote to it...

One of them was too hard to pass up for tonight, even with the clock as far as along as it is, and my sleeping still a major priority. The big news is: Nathan has officially moved to a Big Boy Bed!

Since we are in the process of preparing a nursery, there is a place for the crib to go and he was ready to transition. "Two and a half? That a little early, Kel?" you might say. But I say, oh contraire! It was only Tuesday night of this week the little mini Houdini escaped from his crib 10 TIMES!

Daddy knew it was serious when about 3pm the next day, he received an email stating:
"We need to talk about this tonight!"
With the following picture attached to a Walmart link for purchase:

So, displaying the Solomon-esque wisdom he usually shows during the times I'm ready to "cage my problems away", Jim calmly replied he'd work with him that night, for me not to worry, he'd take care of Nathan until he got to sleep.

Whoo! (wiping the perspiration from my brow) I know we as parents aren't supposed to compare children, because I do recall some hard times with "her" also...

a month before Nathan was born

But the "boy" seems to be a little more stubborn, hard-headed, strong-willed, etc. than I recall from "her". Although, I'm sure having 2 of them running in circles around my rotund figure has absolutely NOTHING to do with my level of patience.

I digress... Daddy took the lead for bed time on Wednesday, laid down the law, and I got to be the back-rubber/sweet-talker/comforter for the come-to-Jesus meeting between the men that night.

So far, knock on wood, it's been smooth sailing staying in the big boy bed. Even in the morning, he stays there until I dismiss him. I know, it's only been two nights and I'm jumping the gun, but I'm pretty proud of that little stinker. It's crazy how children respond to different parenting styles. Thankfully, God had all this figured out before the universe was formed. I'm so glad someone knows how to handle all this.

Tonight's bedtime was worthy of picture taking. The little booger was doing this (see below) in his crib months ago and periodically still does. It was the major reason I attempted potty-training soon after he turned 2. The diaper comes off and nature calls. Sometimes I was lucky enough to catch it before it caused the assembly of a midnight cleanup brigade, like I did tonight. But unfortunately there were days when nature called fairly quickly and I had either a clean-up or a MAJOR clean-up to deal with. And might I just add: poop smeared on the sheets, blankets, bumper pad, toys, body, pajamas and in between the crib's spindles takes a good 2 full days to recover from. It only took four MAJOR cleaning episodes for me to figure out the "jet" setting on the outside hose is the most efficient pre-cleaning method available. That would also be the reason I was rummaging around the side shed looking for painters tape one night about 11pm so I could tape his diaper on so he couldn't get it off. Hence my temporary loss of sanity here lately.

Luckily, tonight was one of those nights I caught it in time.
Notice the wardrobe pieces on the floor? And yes, that is a clipart monster truck covering him.

I have officially taken a potty-training sabbatical and will revisit it when he actually shows an interest. I've lowered my standards enough to be okay with Kindergarten peer-pressure finally being the attention-grabber he's been needing.

In the meantime, I hope, but mostly pray, he'll continue to be the big boy his new bed demands, potty-training can wait and loving the little twirp to pieces needs to be my main goal.

How could I not? Just yesterday as he was standing on my bed, he gently rubbed the sides of my cheeks with both his hands and said, "Mama, you so pwetty."

Isn't there a weight limit for these beds?

This is her answer to keeping him happy until I can make it in there to take him out.