This sickness still has its grimy paws on the parental units in the Land of Bean. Neil and I actually slept in the same bed last night for the first time in three days. Of course, I use the term sleep loosely because most of the night was spent blowing noses and coughing, with some tossing and turning thrown in for good measure and then we were awakened by the babe banging on her door at the unholy hour of 4:45am.
Backing up to explain why Sophie was BANGING on her door. We had a major upheaval around here yesterday. Sophie finally decided that she would be contained by a mere crib no longer. After escaping four times yesterday, despite all efforts to prevent it, we decided it was time to convert her crib to a toddler bed. So at 8:30 last night, an hour and a half after her bedtime, Neil worked to safetyize her room while I did the bed conversion. Mostly because that task allowed me to stay sitting down most of the time.
Luckily, Sophie adjusted to her bed pretty easily. And by easily, I mean I had to crawl into that little bed with her, no mean feat for this, ahem, curvy gal, and then cuddle her until she fell asleep. Then, of course, I'm stuck with trying to figure out how to get out without waking her up. Fortunately, my steel trap of a brain recalled the old Hug and Roll. Fifteen minutes later, as I watched her on the monitor, she literally slithered out of her bed onto the floor where she slept for a couple of hours, until I couldn't look at it anymore and I went in and ever so gently moved her back into her bed.
She made it through the night fine, but when she woke up at 4:45, unconstrained by a crib, she got right up and began banging on her door. This is a rather unpleasant way to be awakened, especially when you're sick, but when does my girl do anything halfway? Never, that's when.
So now our baby is in her sortof big girl bed. Seriously, it's killing me.