Removing the Rails

A couple of weeks ago while I was washing all the children's sheets one of them asked me to leave the safety rails off when I made the beds. I was a little skeptical, but since we have been in big kid beds for 10 months and there is no real barometer for when to take the rails off, I gave in. Nap time went without incident, but I could tell they were nervous as I packed pillows around them. By bedtime the boys had decided they liked the security of the rails and tearfully begged to have them put back on.

K insisted that she was ready "to sleep like a big girl" so I followed her lead and left the rails off. Each night since, I have put pillows on either side of her and one on the floor. I check on her as we turn in for the night and make sure she is adjusted back to the middle of her bed if she is creeping precariously close to the edge.

Last night, when I was awakened by a huge thud following by crying I knew the inevitable had happened--she fell out of her bed and onto the hardwood floor below. As Daddy comforted her, my heart physically ached. I knew it must have hurt and been a frightening experience. I also know she cannot sleep with rails forever and she had seemed ready to remove them. I was struck by how this illustrated the challenge of parenthood.

We use rails/structure to keep our children safe while we train them, but the true test of readiness usually cannot be done without removing the safety device. There is generally no set rule for when to 'remove the rails,' so we pray, we ponder, we discuss, then we hold our breath, remove the rails (or their equivalent) and hope for the best.

There WILL be falls. They may be painful (for us and them). Yet, their growth will be stunted if we don't leave room for them to challenge themselves (within reason, of course).

Thirty minutes later, I awoke to the sound of a stool sliding across the bathroom floor across the hall. Then I heard tinkling. He did it. R listened to my little pep talk before bed and actually went to the bathroom without waking us up to help. As I listened to his movements, I noticed he was still tinkering in the bathroom after he should have been heading back to bed. Then I heard it, "Mommy. I need a little hay-yulp in he-ya. I tee-teed all over my-say-ulf." I climbed out of bed to clean him up, change his pajamas and clean the bathroom. UGH! Rather than making life easier, this exercise in independence had caused more work.

Parenthood is often one step forward, two steps back. I am thankful I get to be the arms they fall into, the shoulder they cry on..and, yes, even the one who gets to clean them up. Thank you, Father, for this gift of being on the front row as they grow.

But is it too much to ask to just get 8pm-7am off for a little R & R? :-)