And, in fact, the first few nights he did fall off, ka-thump, which entailed a few howls (mostly of startlement, I think), and one of us running up to comfort him and get him back down. And then Anand spent about a week sleeping on the mattress topper instead, because he'd decided that was safer. Which was fine. And then last week, he decided he'd rather be in his crib, but he seems to have mastered not falling out, because there have been no more ka-thumps, which is excellent. We'll probably leave the mattress topper there a few more weeks, just in case, and then we'll take it away and rely on the rug to save him from a cracked skull.
Anyway, all of this is not really the point. The point is that all of this was initiated with the hope that our darling boy would stop howling to be released from his crib, thus dragging me upstairs at an unholy hour. I mean, I'm usually awake well before that, but from 5 - 7:30 is prime alone time for me; it's when I have my first two cups of tea, check e-mail, do any leftover dishes and straighten the kitchen while watching a show on Hulu, check on the garden, etc. I am not mentally ready to cope with children yet at that hour in the morning, even if I'm awake. So if I could just get Anand to leave me ALONE until 7:30, I would be a much happier mama. And I hoped that if he had his whole room to roam around in, instead of just the crib, he would amuse himself there until I came to get him.
It's mostly working, in a somewhat chaotic way. Sometimes I come in there, and he's emptied the container of diapers and strewn them across the floor. Sometimes he's pulled the clothes out of his closet and stuffed them in a box. Often all the bedding is on the floor. But this morning -- oh.
We got doors with big glass windows for the children's rooms. The plan is that when they're older, and wanting privacy in their bedrooms, I'll make stained glass pieces to install in those windows. But for right now, it's actually super-convenient to be able to look in and check on them without opening the doors. It would be even more convenient if their beds were in the line of sight from the door, but that doesn't work out, given the sloping ceilings of these attic rooms, but oh well. In any case, this morning.
This morning I looked in, and Anand was sitting in the rocking chair. (This is the leftover nursing chair that Jed got for us when I was pregnant with Kavi, actually, so it's more of a glider than a rocker, with an ottoman.) He was mostly hidden because he'd pulled the curtain over himself, so he could sit in the chair, and rock, and look out the window. Up on the third floor, there's a lot to see -- a few buildings, a lot of trees with leaves blowing in the wind, plenty of sky. Anand was very quietly sitting and staring and rocking. And when I came into the room, he grinned and explained to me, with great excitement, that he was a big boy, and he could climb up in the chair, and rock, all by himself!! He was so happy.
It was just so nice. If you haven't raised a baby, I'm not sure I can convey to you what a blissful moment this was. Because I'm sure there will be other late nights and early mornings. There will be bouts of the flu and nightmares and all sorts of other reasons why they will need their parents at unholy hours. But still; this felt like a transition. Most nights, we'll be able to put the children to bed at a reasonable hour, and then go up to see them at a reasonable hour of the morning.
It's magic, is what it is. It's growing up. I know, soon, they'll be off to college, and I'll be lying in bed, wishing there was a little person upstairs, complaining that they're bored and they WANT TO GET UP. But today, I'm just grateful for the peace.
Child gazes at sky.
Mother gazes at child.
As we gaze at the mother,
who is more fulfilled?