Tragic Sandwich

Tag: sofa bed

  • Sofa Bed Calamity

    Monday morning I folded the sofa bed back up and discovered that one of the legs has broken.

    Sadness.

    We’ll have to buy a replacement; in the meantime, we’ll be jury-rigging the broken leg. If we don’t, how will we get Baguette to nap on the weekend? But I’m a bit sad, because I do love this couch, and it’s only about 13 years old. That doesn’t seem that old for a couch.

    But nostalgia won’t weld metal, and last night Mr. Sandwich and I agreed that it was time for a “sofa fund.”

    Come on, tax refund!

  • The More Things Change, The More They Stay the Same

    Baguette’s crib is long gone, and the toddler bed Mr. Sandwich made for her now stands in its place. No matter–she doesn’t sleep in it, either.

    The pack-n-play still stands in our living room. She hasn’t spent a moment in it for over six months. But it’s great for storing things we want to keep away from her.

    When she started to walk, we knew that Wicket needed a safe refuge. Mr. Sandwich built a platform for the dog’s car booster seat (just typing that sounds silly and indulgent–but much as this dog loved car rides, she hated traditional carriers like she was a cat) behind the couch. Immaterial, now that Baguette is a champion climber. Also not necessary, now that Baguette knows to be gentle with Wicket.

    The travel bed/changing table is still in the corner of the living room, now used for miscellaneous storage (note to self: that must change this weekend–cannot stand it much longer).

    Some day we’ll have a living room that looks like it’s a home for adults. But not right now. We’re too busy repurposing baby items.

    At least we packed up the activity center. Cute as it was, the only additional use I can think of would have been as a place to drape clothes. And it stood right next to the travel bed/changing table, so that niche was already filled.

    Fortunately, none of this gets in the way of Saturday Night Sofa Bed.

  • Saturday Night Sofa Bed

    We don’t have a TV in our bedroom. Sometimes, though, we want to watch TV in bed. This is most likely to come up when one of us is sick, but there are occasions when we just like to lounge.

    So we developed a new tradition: Saturday Night Sofa Bed. We pull out the sofa bed, layer it with blankets, and spend the evening reading, watching TV, and sometimes even eating. All four of us (me, Mr. Sandwich, Baguette, and Wicket) fit with plenty of room to spare, and we have a great family evening.

    Then, through trial and a lot of error, we realized something else: the sofa bed is pretty much the only place we can get Baguette to nap. Apparently at day care she’s amazing at naps. But what we realized is that there, she doesn’t nap alone. There’s a whole room full of napping toddlers.

    Which is why the sofa bed is now out for the entire weekend. One of us (usually me, but not always) sits next to her and reads or works on the computer, while Wicket perches on a nearby cushion.

    It’s actually kind of awesome.

  • Holiday Traditions: Roundup

    I hope all of you had a very Merry Christmas–unless you don’t celebrate it, in which case I hope you had a very nice day. We can all use nice days.

    When I was a child (and a teen, and an adult), I was famous in my family for what we called my “Christmas nap.” I’ve never been one for naps, unless I’m sick. Or it’s Christmas. Apparently this dates back to my infancy, when I got tired partway through opening presents and decided to take a nap. This happened. I’ve seen a photo.

    So yesterday we woke up for what was our first Christmas morning in our own home (normally we alternate between Mr. Sandwich’s parents, who are local, and traveling to my side of the family, who are not. We had prepared by pulling out the sofa bed; we already have a developing tradition called “Saturday Night Sofa Bed,” and we decided to extend it to “Christmas Morning Sofa Bed.” I got up a little ahead of everyone to cut up ham (I had made a ham on Friday) for scrambled eggs, and we ate eggs with ham, and apple bread. Then we piled onto the sofa bed to open presents.

    Next up: Elmo. A lot of Elmo. Baguette has a cold and clearly feels terrible, so we’re letting her watch more TV than usual. Maybe this isn’t perfect, but, hey, what do you want to do when you have a cold? Curl up in bed and watch TV. She’s no different.

    After a while, though, it became clear that she was exhausted and sad (she would cry at the end of each “Elmo’s World”), so we bundled her into the car and drove about 10 feet before she fell asleep. We kept driving for a couple of miles in the hope that it would help her stay asleep. And it worked! When we got home, I piled up sofa cushions and laid her down between me and them. The dog snuggled up on my other side, and we all had a nice, relaxing afternoon as she slept for several hours and I read The Hunger Games.

    It’s worth noting here that what this means is that Baguette stole my Christmas nap. But when was the last time I got to read for two hours straight? I don’t know, either.

    Once she was up and fed and bathed and changed (into another fleecy sleeper–sick babies don’t have to dress for dinner, IMO), we headed over to Mr. Sandwich’s parents’ house for dinner. After a meal of tri-tip, mashed potatoes, carrots, and brussels sprouts, we opened more gifts and watched a renewed (if still fussy) Baguette run around the house.

    I’d like to keep the family, food, and Sofa Bed. Baguette and I both vote to skip the colds next time. But to wind everything up, here are a couple of holiday exchanges from the House of Sandwich:

    When Mr. Sandwich got home from his bike ride, I told him how crazy the process of undoing the Fisher Price Noah’s Ark packaging was making me. A moment later, he’s tossing plastic zebras over to me.

    Me: How did you do that?

    Mr. Sandwich: I think three-dimensionally.

    Me: Thanks, Captain Kirk. Now, HOW DID YOU DO THAT?

    #ThisIsWhatHappensWhenTrekkersMarry

    On whether or not it’s worth making another trip out for gifts on Christmas Eve:

    Me: You know I’m very materialistic and not all about the love.

    Mr. Sandwich: I give you my love.

    Me: I want the thing, dammit.