Bedtime Battles Continued

I’m sure there will be a time when I look back and appreciate the endearing moments of tortured screaming at bedtime.  Maybe when they’re thirteen and they don’t want anything to do with me.  Or when they’re sixteen and sleeping until noon (or maybe it’s the other way around and I don’t know it yet because my boys are 19 months and 33 months-or do I just say almost 3?).

Today, however, it’s the greatest thing in this insane world of motherhood that can get my anxiety to a level I’ve never felt.   The cries, screaming, pleading and bargaining.

During this madness, I’ve got the caring and firm mommy conflicting within me.

The caring and sensitive side of me wants to jump at every cry out and rush to their aide.

“I need my mommy!”  I’m there in a second!

“I have to go potty!”  We were so successful in potty training, how could I betray his trust of the system.

“I need more water!”  It’s summer.  He could be thirsty.  What if he’s dehydrated…I MUST check on him.

“Mommy!  Don’t. Do. This. To. Meeeeee!”  My heart is shattering.  I’m clearly setting him up for emotional disaster. 

And I return to his aide once again.

But then…the curtain falls, the precipitous silence envelopes crowd, the spotlight shining on the other half of me; exhausted, confused, frustrated.

Duped. 

I know I’m being manipulated and I question my reasoning in my coddling moves.   How can it be wrong when it seems so natural and motherly?  I need to be firm.

Yet each afternoon and each night for as long as I can remember, it’s a battle.  My husband, my mother, my best friends all think I should handle it in a different way.  I’ve always been labeled as too sensitive.  Being a firm and consistent mother has no room for the overly sensitive.  And now I feel outplayed.  I need to be stern.  I need to be more consistent. 

I know this is a phase or at least I’m pretty sure they won’t be crying and screaming like this when they’re home visiting us from college.  It’s got to end.  I just hope I can figure it out and do the right* thing along the way.  In the meantime, I’ll just battle my inner Jekyll & Hyde…which is appropriate since it’s my favorite Broadway musical. 

*If you know the right thing, please leave a comment or post on our Facebook page!  Luke, Zealand, (aka...my two little stinkers) if you’re reading this…I’m onto your games and I WILL win this challenge! 


*Leah

 

Kiddos & Plane Rides = Disaster

Okay, so I remember, waayyyyy back in the day before I had kiddos;  I was soo not that person.   You know who I’m talking about!  The rude lady who cringes when you walk by them in the plane aisle with an infant-showing their obvious disapproval that you have chosen THEIR plan to fly on this time. 

Really? 

Or, after seated, the man next to you who moves as far as he can in the tiny seat next to you; apparently in serious fear of some infectious disease your child may have.  No kidding, this is real stuff folks.  I’ve even had a man see me after I’ve been seated, groan, roll his eyes, and ask me,

“Can you sit somewhere else?  Please don’t let that baby spit up on me.  I’m headed to an interview.” 

I have to admit, part of me wanted my precious little angel to throw up the green peas she’d eaten for lunch all over his perfect suit.  My most recent bout with flying just so happened to be on a two and ½ hour plan ride (yes, I know what you are thinking. That’s not so long!! But oh, let me tell you…I saw the writing on the wall) with my 15-month-old and my four-year-old. 

By myself…did I mention that part? 

I thought; oh, grow up Trina!  There are plenty of moms who fly with four or even five kids! Stop being a wimp!

The trip to my hometown in Washington wasn’t so bad.  I sat next to a 12-year-old boy who appeared to have somewhat of a young puppy-love type of crush on me- or just found it amusing to attempt to help me with my two crazy and wild kiddos.  The help was nice; he entertained my daughter while I tried to corral my son on my lap.  My son who also was extremely fussy; the crying bouts he had from exhaustion only lasted about five minutes at a time which was perfect-by the time they ended I was only almost on the verge of insanity so everyone lived through the experience.

The ride home was the real kicker.

They had me and my daughter in seats that were two rows apart.  Obviously, that ain’t happenin.  Now any of you non-flyers, knows this happens a lot.  The difference?  A flight attendant who cares…I’ve had both and let me tell you, the one who cares will save your bacon.  Otherwise you are trying to convince someone to change their seat all on your own- not a lot of fun. 

After the lovely young pretty woman helped get myself, Callie, and my son Clayton next to one another in new seats…the trouble began.  A lady came along with her ticket that had her original seat number, one next to the window and that my daughter had been moved to.  After the nice flight attendant explained what had happened, I offered to move my daughter to the aisle seat so she could sit next to the window. 

“I don’t want to sit next to those children.” She told the flight attendant, as if my kids and I were deaf.  I have to admit…bodily harm didn’t seem that unreasonable at the time. 

Especially when Callie asked me: “Why doesn’t that girl want to sit by us?” Anger got the best of me-I couldn’t stay composed after that.  I answered loudly enough for everyone to hear, “Because she’s mean Callie.”

Classy?  No.  A proud mommy moment?  Not really…but it still felt good.  We were held up for 10 minutes from taking off because no one else wanted to sit next to us on the plane.  We literally had to move two times (yes twice; me, the diaper bag, purse, two blankets, and two kids) in the attempt to keep everyone happy.  We eventually took off…and I totally blame it on the stress and the mean girl next to us (yes, ironically we ended up sitting next to first snotty lady who didn’t want to sit next to us)  as both my kids cried and fussed the entire two ½ hours. 

It’s funny; I swore I’d never fly with both of them again alone.  But in two months guess what?  I’ll do it again.  It’s what we as mothers are forced to do…be resilient.

*Trina

Speaking of Sleep...

I know you all have heard Samuel L. Jackson’s narration of Adam Mansbach’s Go the F*ck to Sleep, a vertible transcript of many a parent in the midst of their child’s bedtime idiocy. 

The very clip fell into my hands on the first eve of a new bedtime routine.  At no other point could I have related more.  Unless that point is now.  Several weeks later. 

But let’s flash back a moment.  In June, I took my first, very much earned and needed, trip away from all of my boys to spend a blissful weekend at a lake house in Tennessee with ten girlfriends, many of whom I hadn’t even seen since before I had Luke, almost 3 years ago.  The weekend was a mirror of the good ol’ college days… full of vivacious laughter, too much beer, gossip and reminiscence of a time when Hootie and the Blowfish dominated the air waves, everyone wondered if Ross and Rachel would end up together, and Drink & Drown was every Wednesday night at Mainstreet. 

With the precision of an anesthesiologist arriving just when you’re about to tussle with your husband in that “tranquil” birthing suite; I welcomed Sunday relaxed and ready to return to my family.   I’m sure I must’ve had some thoughts that their sleep would be disrupted with the brief change in our home.  I didn’t realize it was going to be a lasting change.  Night after night following my return, my 2 ½ year old refused bed.  He screamed and cried and kicked behind his secured door.  Then suddenly, one night it hit me; he wants freedom.  It occurred to me that my daytime-potty-trained son was becoming too independent to not have the freedom at night. 

Easy enough.  I’ve smuggly watched this one hundred times on Supernanny.  I was better than all of those moms.  I’ve got this under control, I thought.  I shared my master plan with my husband:  tonight, we set him free.  If he comes out, we simply put him back in his bed without a word.  He’ll get bored and we’ll win.

Excitedly, I share with my big boy that we have officially removed his safety lock.

“Honey, when you have to go potty, just come on out and we’ll make sure you go and then you just go right back to bed.” 

He seized the opportunity.  The freedom.  Immediately.  And five minutes later, he did again.  And again.  Each time, I did as I had studied and without a word, I returned him to his bed.  Before I knew it, almost two hours had gone by and I had lost my “me time” for that night. 

This continued.  Night after frustrating night, I felt myself losing.  I was no longer in control.  He was flat out manipulating me and my husband knew it.  Why wasn’t this working, I questioned my process wishing that Brit nanny was sitting with me, coaching me.  But she wasn’t.  I couldn’t process the situation any longer. 

I talked to my friends.  I talked to my mom.  Even now, I don’t exactly have an answer.  But we have found a compromise.  He gets three chances (and that is way too many chances!) to use the potty from the time we start our bedtime stories.  By the third chance, he gets to use the potty but the gate on his door.  For over a week now, he’s just been playing the game.   He will repeat our deal verbatim. 

“Three times and I get the gate.”  He recites.

“Yes, son.  But you don’t want the gate up.  You just want to stay in your room after the second time.”  I smile, encouragingly.

He’s playing the game.  He will reach the third potty break and say, “Okay, that was three.”  He hops back into bed, I have to tuck him in, put the gate up and then…finally…quiet.

I may not be able to actually use the F-word to enhance my wishes at bedtime, but you know as I picture my cushy couch and that empty wine glass awaiting me in the next room; I sure am thinking it.

What has been your BEST summer moment with your family so far?

The day after the 4th of July, the aisles of Target were already spiffied with Back to School supplies.  Didn't summer start on June 21st or something like that?  What happened to summer?   Back in my day, we never started school anywhere close to my middle-of-August birthday.  According to my friends with school-aged kiddos, it sounds like many have either already started or are starting in next couple of weeks.  Forget about September! 

So with the summer quote-on-quote wrapping up as responsibilities take precedence again, we look back on another fun-filled, sweltering (for many parts of our country, at least) and delicious summer.

Though my actual family summer vacation isn't for another four weeks, in which I'll hopefully have a dozen of best summer moments in the making; for now, I would have to say my most enjoyable day would be introducing my boys to their very first water park. Both of them - possible future Michael Phelps, minus the pot scandal, of course - were outwardly thrilled with the sights of slides, fountains and swirly whirly rivers. 

My parents had treated us to the afternoon and along with my husband we found a shady spot near some sand to claim our bags and flip flops and towels.  Within minutes, Zac was escorting Luke down his first-ever waterslide.  The brave soul didn't think twice as he let the water whisk him down the chute, plunging into my arms.  Meanwhile, ZZ was splashing around some mini fountains gleefully "eeee-ing" each time the droplets would sprinkle his little face.  Grandma and grandpa sailed with them through the lazy river.  It was two-plus hours of pure joy.  My boys can't get enough of being in the water; be it the pool, beach or a bath, but just looking into Luke's blood-shot eyes, we knew it was time to call it a day. 

With the whole family dry and cozy, we concluded the dreamy day at my parent's house with the best New York pizza Manassas, Virginia has to offer.

Please share with us your best summer moment so far!!!

*Leah

Starbucks Anyone?

Callie Jo Epp.  Where do I start?  She was one special little girl from the day she was born.  Our first-born child, and one of the first granddaughters, she was pretty much spoiled from the get-go.  I styled her in Gap and Old Navy–pretty pink dresses and fashionable matching shoes.  How could I help it?  Anyone who goes shopping for a baby girl can attest; they have the absolute cutest clothes available and it’s downright addicting. 

Another habit we started very early was taking my little girl to Starbucks.  You know you’re in trouble when your baby girl can only say a few words, including “Mommy” and “Daddy” and then “Starbucks!” as we drive by the familiar green sign. We were doomed!

Callie always knows exactly what she wants to order when we head to my all-time favorite coffee shop.  Kids’ hot chocolate, a vanilla milk box or chocolate milk box, and usually a vanilla bean scone.  Yes, my four-year-old happily walks up to the cashier and politely orders whatever her little heart may fancy that day.

Just the other day we were in a huge hurry.  I had to be to work in 35 minutes and had about a 25-minute commute, which included dropping my kids off at daycare.  I’d run out of creamer that morning, and let’s face it, folks, no coffee means zero brain power for this career woman.  So, off to Starbucks we went with an excited toddler pondering what she’d order.  When we got to the drive-thru, I sighed.  Three cars in line equaled me being very late to work, and oh, how I hated to be late! Callie couldn’t have said it better.  “Mommy, if these people don’t hurry, we are never going to be able to get our coffee, right?”

Thinking about how late I might be, I said in a monotone, “Yes, honey.”  
“Mommy, maybe you should just crash them out of the way!” 
I looked back and saw that Callie had a serious look on her face.  She meant it!
“Honey, we can’t crash into them. That’s not reasonable!  If we’re just patient, they’ll move soon.”  The funny thing was; I was also thinking how nice it would be to ram my car into the back of the person in front of me who evidently hadn’t decided what they’d order ahead of time, taking an extremely long amount of time in deciding.  Finally, the car moved and it was our turn to order.  Before I could tell the nice woman at the other end of the microphone what I wanted to order, Callie piped up as loud as she could, “Come on, people, move it!”

Our children listen to everything we say!  So I guarantee when you’re cussing someone out under your breath, or telling the people off in the drive-thru line at Starbucks, your children do hear you, and they’ll repeat it.  You can count on it!

Bliss to Be Savored

It’s 1:31 in the afternoon on a hot Friday in the middle of summer.  I’m home with the two kiddos while my husband is at work.  A thunderstorm just rolled through.  Something I love...but not exactly at naptime.  I knew better, so I kept them up with my eye on the radar.  About a half hour ago, my 19-month-old walked up to me with his blankie.  He wasn't waiting any longer for the storm to pass.  And both of my boys fell fast asleep, without a fight, in a matter of minutes.

For the first time since 5:30 a.m., it is quiet.   Not really quiet because the dishwasher and dryer are running simultaneously and I did switch Go, Diego, Go! over to the Singers & Swing music channel.  But it’s quiet in here from the hustle and bustle of “mommy” this and “mommy” that.   It’s quiet from my youngest toddler trying to climb up on the dining room table and then holler out “Mama! Mama!” with his arms open for me to carry him down, just so he could do it over and over again…no matter how many times I said no.  It doesn’t help that his big bro helps him by pulling the chair out for him, almost inviting him to get in trouble.

It’s also quiet from my oldest toddler playing with his Matchbox cars and military outfit.  It’s a blissful quiet.  Knowing they are contentedly asleep and snuggled in their beds.  Knowing that our afternoon will be busy with friends and fun in the pool.  Knowing that our evening will be bustling as we knock out our bedtime routine with two exhausted boys.  But for now, it’s quiet. 

I’m torn between relaxing and getting some work done.  Of course, more housework comes to mind…but no, not today.  It’s the start of my birthday weekend and the thought of doing another round of bathroom cleanings just to see it blanketed in SpongeBob undies, towels, floaties and miscellaneous shorts and shirts…no, not so much. I’m not going to use this amazing hour or two for that (Dear God, please let it be two hours).  I’m going to enjoy it.  If it were later in the day, I’d have a glass of wine… for now, I think I’ll pour a glass of iced tea, relax on the sofa with a book and listen to a little Sinatra.  These blissful moments in the world of Mommyhood are to be savored.

A Mommy’s School Bus Jitters

If you're a mom about to bid adieu to your little one as they climb aboard that big yellow heartbreaker for the very first time, I wish you well.  I have no idea what it’s actually going to be like watching my son get on the bus to head to Kindergarten for the first time, but I do know it’s not going to be easy if I’m crying about it now and he’s only 21 months old. 

We read a few books every night at bedtime, and lately, our favorite book has been “Best Baby Ever” by David Milgrim.  In it, the parents are mesmerized as their baby grows from his first smile until ultimately, they watch him get on the school bus for the very first time with tears in their eyes.  I’m telling you, I’ve read this book probably every night at least once, for the last couple of months.  Yet, tonight, I couldn’t hold it back.  It seems like just yesterday when I had my little 7 lb 7 oz newborn baby boy.  He’s already grown so fast and if time continues to fly like this, I’ll soon be watching a five-year-old get on the bus.

My voice starts to shake as I continue to read this particular night; but I toughen up and tell the story until the end without my son noticing my voice choking up.  I conclude as I wipe the tears from my face that Kindergarten is a long way off, and I’m going to enjoy every single minute with my baby until then.  But, really, I know it's just right around the corner...on the corner some of you'll be standing on this month. 

In so many ways we can't wait to see our children grow into the people they are going to be; yet we want to keep them little.  Hug your little Kindergartner before they get on that bus and enjoy that moment for what it is.  A milestone.  A treasured memory.  And if you find yourself lost in a quiet house, go treat yourself to a hot stone massage!