It's been a rough week for my Lila girl. An injurious week. I'm actually surprised we don't have more injuries around here considering this is a common occurrence:
Here's what happened to Lila this week:
Monday: She was rough-housing with Daddy, wrestling on our bed. I knew from her delighted squeals that things would end in tears. Sure enough, she somehow flung herself off the bed and hit her temple on the leg of a chair that was in our room. It looked like it might swell up to a really nice goose egg, but we got ice on it quickly and it just bruised slightly.
Tuesday: No injuries
Wednesday: At school, she was climbing up the slide on the playground and slipped. She whacked her face on the metal slide and ended up with a bloody, fat lip. It was very sad. But it made me extremely grateful for my awesome job where she is cared for on sight where I work and her teachers could just bring her to me to comfort her. Have I mentioned how awesome my job is? (It's awesome.)
Wednesday evening: She was wearing her new flip-flops and she was jumping outside on our driveway (about 40% of the time that she is awake, she is jumping) and got a little tripped up. She skinned both her knees pretty badly. It took four Princess Bandaids (two on each knee) to cover the wounds.
Thursday: No injuries, but she came down with a cold and whined all day that her nose was "suffed up."
Friday: No injuries, but lots of snot. Also, this happened on Friday (proof that the whole week wasn't horrible):
My best friend and her kids came in town from Manhattan to play for my birthday! Lila was in heaven as Lucy schooled her in all things little girl. They had tea parties, played dress up, colored, and played house. And Oliver (a year older than Lila and Jude's competition for future husband) and Lila had sword fights, played with play-doh, threw things around and pushed each other's buttons. It was awesome. But I digress.
Back to our Week O' Injuries.
Where were we? Ah yes. Today. Saturday.
This morning we were at some friends' house (Lila was playing with their kids while we had a meeting with the parents) and our meeting went long so we got home late for Lila's nap. Recently if I miss what I call her "Nap Window" she revs up for an all out protest and refuses to nap. I was tired so the Husband took round one. When he was sufficiently frustrated and she was still awake - two hours later - I took over.
I took away her bink, Lambie, Snuggle, etc and told her she could have them back when she was ready to take a nap. She began to employ her newly acquired negotiating tactic: pterodactyl screeches. I sat patiently on the couch in the living room waiting for her to stop at which point I would bring her nap-time soothies back in and try to rock her to sleep. However, my plan was thwarted when I heard a colossal THUMP and then an immediate wail. I ran into the room to find her out of her bed and on the floor looking thoroughly terrified/injured. As I scooped her up, she gave me an accusatory scowl in the midst of her tears as if to say, "If you weren't so mean to insist on me taking a nap, I wouldn't be sitting here crying!"
There was no blood, no bumps I could see. I felt her head and body and everything seemed okay. She was hysterical crying. I gave her her bink, offered her milk and in a few minutes she had calmed down enough to answer my questions through her tears and recovery breathing.
"Lila, can you show Mommy where you hurt?"
"Wight *gasp* heeeeeyyyyyyaaaaaaa!!!!!!" She said, indicating the top of her head and allowing that last word to dissolve into a wail.
"Right here? It's okay, Peanut. Can you show Mommy where you hit your head? Did you hit it on the bed? Or on the floor?"
"Wight *gasp, gasp, whimper* derrrrrrrr!" She said, pointing to a spot on the rug where I had discovered her upon entering the room. And then she added between sobs, "I saw my monituh." (translation: monitor; translation: noise-maker)
"You saw your noisemaker? When you fell?"
"Yeeeeeeeaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!" Again, her answer trailed off into a pathetic wail.
So from what I gather, she was mad at me for taking her beloved comfort objects (which was kind of my point) and in the midst of her screeches, she must have climbed out of her bed and fallen to the floor. And evidently she could see her noisemaker (which lives under her bed) in her line of sight from where she landed. I was concerned about a head injury or something dramatic like that, but she seems okay. I think it scared her more than anything. Her cry was more of a scared cry than a hurt cry. (But of course, I called my ER nurse sister just in case.)
We've known for awhile that she could get out of her bed if she really wanted to, but she's never actually attempted it. I've kind of been dreading this day. But now that it's here, I might, just might benefit from the traumatic nature of her discovery that she can get out of her bed. I'm really hoping that her scare this afternoon will make her nervous enough to prevent her from attempting another escape any time soon. I'm so not ready to switch to the big bed and all the freedom and retraining it necessitates.
So, did she ever fall asleep, you ask?
Yep. It's amazing what a tumble out of her crib, a cup of milk and some Mommy comforting can do to lull a stubborn toddler to sleep. I rocked her for four minutes and she was snoring in three. She slept for an hour and a half and was a real grump when she woke up. I put her to bed for the night two hours later and she went right to sleep.
But just in case this is the beginning of the end of a crib for my Baby Girl, what can you experienced mamas offer me by way of advice? Any tips for the transition? Any tactics for keeping them in the big bed? Ay-yi-yi, I'm not ready for this.