randomness of yesterday

We had quite the day yesterday.

First, it began with my 38 week appointment. Everything looks fantastic and this little lady is finally head down in an anterior position--exactly how she should be. I've concluded that either she is going to be a gymnast like Grandma H, or she is going to be like her father and have to look at or try every possible scenario (or in this case position to hang out in) before actually deciding on the best one. I'm dilated to a 2, 50% effaced, nothing too exciting at the moment. I expect to go another week or two at least.

Then, last night we went to a benefit for a family who's father has cancer. It was at a roller skating rink within walking distance from our house. We didn't plan on skating but just being there to support the family. However, once we got there and Clark saw all the flashing lights, loud music, and other young kids skating, he was begging to get out there and join in. So we rented skates for he and Adrian and Adrian basically dragged him around the rink a couple of times (not because he protested, of course, but because it was difficult for him to keep his feet under him!). Clark had the time of his life and we ended up getting home around 8.

Then as we were trying to quickly get the boys ready for bed, Peter did this (actually the first time he didn't have a spotter):



which was enough for us to make the split-second decision that it was time to take apart the bunk bed, seeing as how Peter (two nights ago) dazzled us with his skills of safely and successfully climbing out of his crib. Great. I really, REALLY didn't want to deal with this until after our new baby arrived, but he gave us no choice.

So then we spent the next 45 minutes taking apart the crib, and the bunk bed, and getting the room semi Peter-friendly. And then came the hard part of us trying to keep both boys in their beds and calmed enough to actually sleep. After fighting and being grouchy, I finally sat in their room until they both fell asleep. And it was nearing 10:00. *Sigh* But at least it had been sort of successful.

Until 11:00 rolled around. And Peter woke up crying. And then he proceeded to wake up crying every ten minutes for the next few hours. And I was grouchy. I sung to him, I laid on his bed with him, I rocked him, and I even set up the pack-and-play to see if that would help. And he kept waking up. And kept crying. And I was not a happy mom at 2:30 when I still hadn't been able to fall asleep once. It was then that I finally prayed for inspiration and was willing to receive it. And I did. At 2:30 I asked Peter if he needed a diaper change. "Yes". And there it was, the poopy diaper that had been burning his poor bottom for hours. You can't imagine the rash it caused and the guilt I felt. Amazing how I went from over tired-grouch to a loving, gentle, "I'll sacrifice my entire night's sleep for you" mom within a matter of seconds. I gave him a bath. I slathered on the diaper cream. I hugged him and kissed him and gave him some motrin. And then he walked into his room, asked to be put in the pack-and-play, quickly fell asleep, and I didn't hear from him the rest of the night. And I learned a very important lesson about adjusting my attitude.

So now we're full-fledged into trying to teach Peter to sleep on a twin bed. Nap time was rough today and so was bed time tonight. I am tired just thinking about it. Any ideas on how long it's going to take him to get the hang of it?