My hubby is awesome for many reasons. He’s smart, he’s funny, he’s good looking, he’s kind, he cooks, he cleans, he is 200% involved in raising Buggy… just to name a few.
Recently his smarts increased my love for him yet again.
Over the Christmas holiday, we entered a world of change – purposefully mind you. Maybe a bit crazily. We transitioned Buggy to a regular bed in a new room and entered the world of toddler potty training – in anticipation of our April addition to the family.
I’m not here to bore you with the often disgusting details of potty training. Maybe another time.
Hubby’s genius was made known in the “big boy” bedroom transition.
The bed, sheets, other furniture was set up for a few weeks before the move. We spent time in there, playing, as I slowly added the decor and final touches. Then Buggy was moved in. We expected some struggles – mostly that he’d stay up forever playing and reading books – but overall expecting a decently smooth transition. We did not expect the screaming and crying.
For the first few nights, we spent 7-10 pm going up and down the stairs to calm Buggy, leave, let him cry for a bit, go back to calm, and so on and so on. Until he was so exhausted he finally fell asleep, as did we, occasionally in Buggy’s bed.
One night while reading books, he kept telling us “Can’t leave. Can’t leave.” I decided to engage this conversation (as previous attempts to ignore were not helping) and see if I could find out the reasons for his trepidations – not expecting any big revelations. The conversation occurred as such…
Me: “Why do you cry when we leave?”
Buggy: “I cry ‘Mommy’.”
Me: “I know, why do you cry ‘Mommy’?”
Buggy: “I cry ‘Mommy’. I scared.”
Me: “Why are you scared? What are you scared of?”
Buggy: “Too dark.”
Well there you go. In the comfort and safety of his former room and crib, Buggy barely had a nightlight. Never seemed to bother him. We had that light along with another a bit brighter in the new room. We thought that was sufficient.
Oh how wrong we were. Obviously not enough light per the conversation with the 2 1/2 year old. I was at a loss. The light on the ceiling fan was way too bright. But it was bed time and too late to buy another light for tonight. Crap.
Enter Hubby. He grabs the tiny dresser lamp from the old nursery – the one with the 25 watt bulb. He goes into my craft area (don’t get too excited – craft area = piles of bags and boxes in the guest bedroom closet) and grabs some leftover fabric from the Super Grover costume I made for Halloween.
Enter dimmed night light – bright enough for Buggy to feel safe, not too bright to keep him awake.
Buggy went to bed very easily that night, and the following few nights. But he was awake at 5:30 am the next few mornings. Not cool. Even after Hubby went out and bought a dimmer socket to make the 25 watt bulb even dimmer in the night light (2nd stroke of genius).
I had a moment of clarity and wondered if maybe the light was waking him up in the morning? Maybe we needed to open his door, sneak in the room, and turn the light off when we went to bed? The squeaky door hinges got a spraying of non-stick cooking spray (see, I can be smart too). The next morning, no one was awake before 6:30.
Don’t worry, that’s not it for Hubby’s genius (I’m sure you were feeling a bit underwhelmed). Not liking the idea of having to open the door each night, having the light’s cord stretch open in the room to the outlet that worked by the switch, Hubby came up with a third part of the plan.
While at Lowe’s the day after Christmas, Hubby picked up the remote Christmas light power outlets. They were for next year’s lights, to avoid bending, stretching, and groaning to turn the tree on and off for a month. But he knew they would work for our situation.
Currently, and possibly forever, Buggy’s super dimmed, furry blue night light is connected to a power outlet controlled by remote.
When we go to bed, a simple click of the remote from the hallway turns off the night light.
Pure absolute GENIUS! Told you he was a smarty-pants.
(On a side note, check out my wrinkly old lady hands. It’s a mixture of pregnancy hand swelling and horribly chapped, dry hands from washing constantly due to a pottying toddler, attempting to avoid winter illness, and washing dishes 3-6 times per day. I need lotion – STAT!)