Some days, I feel like a fairly competent parent, and other days, I’m left wondering how I managed to leave the hospital with a tiny human—let alone four of them. Today was definitely one of those latter days.
It had been ages since I had tackled the daunting task of changing sheets and making beds. I mean, it felt like it was during the last ice age. With one queen-sized bed, two sets of bunk beds, and a crib in the mix, I was suddenly overwhelmed by the sheer volume of bedding. That’s 2 plus 4, plus a handful of stuffed animals and an army of stray socks that somehow made their way into the abyss between the mattress and the sheets. Yeah, it was a lot to take on.
I usually avoid this chore like it’s a 5k run or a committee meeting. But as I lovingly placed the last pillow on my youngest’s bottom bunk, my 8-year-old piped up, “Mom, can you make my bed too?”
“Of course, sweetie! Yours is next,” I replied, feeling quite pleased with myself—at least for the next three minutes. That was until I attempted the Herculean feat of climbing to the top bunk. Honestly, that ladder might as well have been a vertical cliff. It seemed to mock me: “Look, the big one is trying to climb! She can’t even figure it out. What a sight!”
When I finally reached the top, I was utterly shocked. It was like entering a dismal prison cell. There were no sheets, just a haphazard collection of 15 books stuffed under her pillow. No fitted sheet. Seriously, NO SHEETS at all! And let’s not even discuss the mattress, because it was just a flimsy toddler pad split into three sections. What was I thinking?
“Umm, how long have you been without sheets?” I asked, bewildered.
“I don’t know. A while, I think,” she replied nonchalantly.
“Why are you using those thin pads? What happened?”
“I think something went wrong when you were fixing the beds last time. You couldn’t finish? I don’t remember. It was a while ago.”
Her memoir, “I don’t remember. It was a while ago,” would surely become a bestseller in the parenting genre.
The only thing missing was a metal cup for her to rattle against the bed guard. And just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, I noticed the unused top bunk of my son’s bed. It was a veritable oasis with a double mattress, an eggshell topper, sheets, pillows, and blankets, all ready for the imaginary friend who surely deserved a good night’s sleep.
I spent the next two hours dragging mattresses and fluffing pillows, tucking corners and putting the softest sheets I could find on my daughter’s now-fortified bed. How did I overlook this for weeks, no, months? Oh right, that ladder—such a nemesis.
As I kissed her goodnight at the foot of the bed, I realized how remarkable my daughter is. She never complained about her barren bed or the missing sheets. She simply kissed us goodnight and climbed up to her desolate sleeping space without a word of protest.
The old story suggests that a true princess could feel a pea beneath a pile of mattresses, but I believe a real princess would do exactly what my daughter did: gracefully accept her circumstances and make the best of them.
Despite my shortcomings, I believe we have a genuine princess in our midst. Here’s hoping she marries into royalty someday; we could certainly use some high-quality Egyptian cotton around here.
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Summary:
In this humorous reflection on parenting, Hannah navigates the chaos of managing beds and sheets for her children, realizing the resilience of her daughter who never complained about her less-than-ideal sleeping arrangements. The article highlights the challenges of parenthood and the importance of appreciating the little things, like a child’s ability to adapt.