Navigating New Challenges
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The move from a crib to a big kid bed almost took me out. I was wholly unprepared for the nightly battles that ensued.
One evening in January, my spouse tucked our 2.5-year-old daughter, Mia, into her crib before settling into his own routine. Just moments later, she proudly announced, “I climbed out!” This was a first, and it signaled that we could no longer delay the transition we had joked would happen in her teenage years. We decided to make the switch the very next night. I wasn’t ready for what lay ahead.
Most little ones transition from crib to bed between 18 months and 3 years old. This broad range means parents everywhere are making their choices, trying to balance their instincts with the “signs” that sleep experts suggest indicate it’s time to switch. One crucial sign I learned about three months too late is that it’s generally recommended to wait until age 3 to change to a big kid bed. “Young toddlers are starting to assert their independence, yet they lack solid reasoning skills,” explains Sarah Johnson, a baby sleep consultant. “Moving to a big kid bed when your toddler isn’t ready can lead to exhausting power struggles.” Additionally, studies indicate that two-year-olds often struggle with impulse control, making it hard for them to stay in bed at night or when they wake up.
We quickly learned this lesson the hard way.
Mia had been a fantastic sleeper since we sleep-trained her at five months. However, after the transition, she started waking up crying multiple times a night. Bedtime turned into an hour-long negotiation, and she often appeared in our room at dawn, eager to kickstart the day.
While there’s plenty of advice on how to manage the sleep challenges that come with this transition, little has been said about how it affects parents — and that impact is significant. For two years, we had enjoyed a child who peacefully stayed in her crib from 7 PM to 7 AM, providing us with precious hours of freedom. Every parent values that time, whether to unwind, be productive, or simply enjoy a moment of peace.
Now, nothing felt certain. The security of the crib’s four walls was gone, and we were left feeling powerless. Sure, effective parenting isn’t about control (as Sarah reminds us, “We want to avoid power struggles with our toddlers”), but it sure helps to have some leverage.
In those blissful crib days, after Mia was asleep, I would curl up in my nearby office chair, reading as I listened to her chatter until she drifted off. It was a perfect routine. Now, every few minutes, her door swings open with a new demand: she needs to go potty, needs her favorite socks on, or wants to know why I’m upstairs while her dad is downstairs.
In those moments, I could feel my patience wearing thin, and irritation bubbling just below the surface. I followed the expert advice, calmly reminding her that it was bedtime and she needed to return to bed. But as time dragged on, I felt the weight of my situation. My control over her sleep was nonexistent, and I was reminded of the anxiety I felt during the newborn stage — the fear of never sleeping again. In my more desperate moments, I even resorted to threats — taking away toys or suggesting a return to the crib. While these tactics sometimes worked, I knew they weren’t the approach I wanted to take.
The most challenging outcome of our new sleep issues has been my reduced engagement during the day. Without our reliable hours of quiet time, I found myself zoning out, rushing through bedtime in hopes of snagging a moment for myself before I crashed. On particularly rough mornings, I’d wake up to her cheerful face at 6:15 AM, filled with love but also a twinge of resentment. During what should have been my break from parenting, I was merely unconscious.
This transition has reaffirmed an essential truth of parenthood: raising a child often means sacrificing your own comforts for the sake of the one you love most. On nights when Mia won’t stay in bed, I first think of what I am missing, whether it’s finishing a show or enjoying some quiet time to write. I can only gently guide her back to bed, time and time again.
Yet, I remind myself this phase, much like the newborn days, is temporary. Before long, she’ll be locking her door, then her room will be empty, leaving me with countless quiet nights and peaceful mornings. It’s a bittersweet thought, but it helps ease the frustration of realizing I may never win this power struggle, especially as I search the house for a stuffed unicorn that she insists she cannot sleep without.