Don't feed your daughter Ice Cream Sandwiches before bed

Well.  Bedtime has gotten more interesting.  Which is never a word you want associated with bedtime.  Avery, my darling daughter Avery.  She's never had a penchant for sleeping, but I prayed a new sleeping situation would inspire new sleeping habits.  Be careful what you wish for because they did.  They just happen to be a whole lot worse.

NOT that I would ever blame anything on my husband, but with a crib that was on its last legs (and definitely its last baby), he wanted to order a new bed for Avery.  I guess I should be thankful for the 4-6 week delivery period as a delay of what would become our bedtime hell.  After two successful moves from crib to bed (with only a few days of tears), I felt ready to meet the challenge.  But I should have known better, because I've met Avery.

I won't go through all the details of this past three weeks since the bed has arrived, except to say she has won, almost ever night. And we have lost.  Except she often wakes tired which means nobody really wins.  But lets use last night as an example.  By this time, she should KNOW, that we mean business at bedtime and she NEEDS to stay in her bed.  So I do our routine, lie with her in bed in the final moments and she immediate sits up, knows what is coming (me leaving her room).  I walk out while keeping an eye on her because at this point she throws her body all sorts of ways and I've already witnessed her hitting her head against the side of the bed.  When I see she's safely to the floor, I say goodnight, and walk out of the room and keep the door cracked.  I stay outside of her room, listening for the familiar gagging noise which means PUKE is coming!  She stays in her room for a few minutes, and a quick quiet period means she decided to open her door.  She's pretty mad to see me waiting in the hall to put her back in her room and after a hysterical period she throws up, which luckily (was it lucky?) I caught in my hand.  I'm soo glad Eric fed the kids ice cream sandwiches after dinner!  That pukes well!

Since this is almost a nightly occurrence, I clean myself, offer her water, and bring her back to her bed.  She's not happy.  I say goodnight once again, walk out, and within a minute, I hear puking.  Now her ice cream sandwich is on her nice white carpet and daddy has been called in for backup.  Name of the game? Avery wins.  Eric falls aleep next to her, and doesn't move until she wakes up the FIRST time (not the only time) in the middle of the night. 

Have I mentioned she's our last kid?