Fresh Sheets

I finally did it. I let dad take out the safe, enclosed crib and put in the open, fun toddler bed. It was just as hard for me as I thought it would be. Will she nap anymore? Will she stay in there? Will she wander unattended and get into something?

And more issues came out as I watched her enjoy her very own cozy little house. 

I have always been strict about fresh clothes for bed. Keeping the sheets clean for a cozy sleep. I changed her for every nap. Seriously. I have always made sure she had two clean, infant-safe stuffed animals and a blanket in there that weren't for play around the house.

Now, with her toddler bed, I find random objects in her sleeping area, loads of for-3-and-up stuffed animals that have been dragged around the dog-trodden floor, and I don't even know where her designated bedtime puppy went. 

Her bed went from hygienic sleeping space to a cushioned trampoline and a welcoming hangout. I have to dust it off and collect random toys in order to put her down for sleep. And ignore the dog hair. All the while thinking, what type of feelings do normal people have about sleeping areas? I have lost control. And, am I crazy? (Don't answer that.)

I don't get it from my childhood. I grew up with a cat on my pillow, a dog spralled out next to me, and another dog rolled up at my feet. Even after moving out on my own I had pets on the bed. I remember eating in bed. Frequently.  Making crafts in bed. Reading, reading, reading in bed. 

As a young person, that is the most definite personal space. I'm always cleaning her table. Organizing her belongings. Moving toys for a change in activity. Making suggestions. And now I have the greatest urge to impose so many rules on her bed. 

It's for sleeping. Leave your blankie there. Don't eat on your bed. Don't play with that there. Don't climb in with your day clothes. Take your slippers off. No, I can't come read in your bed, as I wore these pants when I brushed the dog/ washed the bathroom/ peeled potatoes. Don't do this. Do this. Do that. 

Yes, I am here to teach her to take care of things. I'm here to help her learn what the proper use is for everything. I'm here to help her learn how to be safe. But all that must be done thoughtfully. What are my motives? Do I want her to have insecurities like me? I can't climb into bed without wiping my feet or putting on fresh socks. Oh, you should see my turmoil when camping! Baby wipes must be handy. 

But moments occur when I can smile at myself and see my growth. If you can call it that. Personally, it feels like reluctantly releasing something important. I wait for the I-told-you-so tradgedy to remind me that I lost my focus. Sometimes, though, change just happens.

This week, I put my daughter down to nap in her pants and socks without feeling like it would be detrimental to her health. Clothes she ate in. Clothes she left the house in. Clothes she played with the dogs in. For the first time in her 25 month long life. Then I climbed in and we read a book in her cozy bed instead of sitting in the rocking chair. 

She has a cough now, but I know that's not why. 

I will grow by letting go. I'll refrain from enforcing every crazy precaution that crosses my mind. I'll just wash the sheets more. Throw her teddy bears in the washer. Help her learn to tidy. And let her have fun. 

But, absolutely no dogs in bed. And no eating in bed. For now. I've learned that mommy rules are made to be changed. 

And one day she'll read this and think, "Mom, I thought you had strange ideas, but thank you for letting go of all the other ones you had in addition".