Ch-Ch-Changes

So two things.

1.  I decided that it was high time for Ellie to move on up to what I will reluctantly call a "big girl bed."  Reluctantly because I sound like a huge douche bag when I say things like that.  It's right up there with referring to myself in the third person as "Mommy" or using the word "potty". 

I made this move knowing that it had the potential to destroy the one good thing I have going in my life right now - a guaranteed three hours of afternoon peace to eat peanut butter and watch Bridezillas while she was caged in her crib.  However, my cheap ass also knew that it would make better financial sense to buy a "big girl bed" (aaaack it burns) than to buy a third crib and I'm doing my best to get everyone settled into a routine before baby #3 makes his/her appearance.  So I bit the bullet.

Now, if you've read this blog for any length of time you'll recall Ellie isn't big on what many people call "change" or "unfamiliar things" (see previous posts on breastfeeding, solid food, sippy cups, crawling, walking, her little sister, potty training, swimming, bounce houses, playground equipment, bugs, rocks, curtains, leaves, garden tools, shopping carts, dogs, crayons and potted plants). 

So I was prepared for war.  And by prepared I mean I had no idea what I was doing but I was pretty sure we were going to get into a fight.

But... to my surprise... we brought the bed into her room and she exclaimed "oh my gosh!", got in, pulled the covers up, and took a nap.

In the past week she's been batting about .500, which ain't too shabby.  If she's not totally ready to go to bed (which happens about 1/2 the time) we'll hear the pitter patter of little feet in the room above us and if we don't get up there quick enough we pay the price.

So far the price has included:  27 clean diapers in the Diaper Genie because apparently blankie needed 27 diaper changes, every dresser drawer being completely emptied and clothing strewn across the room because apparently blankie needed some new jammies, and walking into a cloud of Oust, concentrated on her hair and arms because apparently blankie was "stinky".

The other side effect I'm still trying to get used to is being jolted from a dead sleep at 7:00am by someone opening my eyelids and breathing heavily on my cheek.  It's happened twice, which equals a total of 2 weeks taken off not only my life, but the life of the gestating baby inside me who experiences a lightning bolt of adrenaline equivalent to me being chased through a forest by a grizzly every time that happens. 

And, 2.  I've decided that Ellie will never be potty trained.  I had planned on trying again this week, which I mentioned to my Mom and got this encouraging email:

Hey Hannie,

Good news.  I looked up the potty training by the moon and now until the 9th (Sunday) is the best time to start....and also to castrate your animals, just in case you need that info.  So good luck.

Love you,

MOM

Contrary to what the Farmer's Almanac recommends, I just don't think there will ever be an ideal time for me to chase Ellie around the house wiping up urine.  Also, I really don't see how trying to keep two little kids from crawling under the Wal-Mart bathroom stall while Ellie takes a leisurely dump is easier than changing her diaper at my earliest convenience. 

I think we all know what the answer is here.  Ellie's just going to have to learn how to change her own diapers. 

That is the new focus of my energy.