It's that time of night again. I fought a hard battle and won. Sienna is asleep. She is a lil drama queen at night lately. It's the change, new apartment. The girl doesn't do well with change. That's why we're not changing wards. Anyway, she is a creature of habit.
Every night I start the same battle with her. I open up my scriptures and announce bed time. We read, preferably a new testament story about Jesus as a child, her favorite, and then time to brush teeth. If we make it to that point then we say prayers and turn on the night light, hugs and kisses, one quick story from memory, and night night, sleep tight don't let the bed bugs bite about ten times, and then she's out. That's if we make it there.
Not tonight. Tonight we got stuck on brushing teeth. I have made a new rule that she can only brush her teeth in the bathroom. I found toothpaste all over the place in the kitchen and spent the majority of the day cleaning up tooth paste from random spots. Hence the rule. Hence the before mentioned hate of change. Hence a meltdown. It started with wanting me to do everything, to me not doing anything the way she wanted, to her being unbelievably upset because her teeth someday will fall out. Logical right?
She cried for over an hour. I tried distracting, threatening, time outing, and praying. Nothing. I called my dad he talked to her for two seconds and all of a sudden she was okay, and T.V. sounded good to her. We went to the living room and sat down and I realized that she had manipulated me. Wasn't the bed the original goal? How was I all of a sudden okay with anything but the melt down? I pondered it then made up my mind that I would not be manipulated. I looked at her with all the courage I have and said,"no tv. bed." I picked her up, said a quick prayer with her, put her in bed, told her the three lil pigs, covered her up, turned on the night light, hugs and kisses from me and mags, and night night, sleep tight, no bed bug bites were said, and I was out of there.
Then on to maggie. This all started at 8. It's now 9:30. "Don't normal jobs end at 5?!" i think to myself. I make her bottle with one hand, my other around her waist balancing her on my hip. Heaven forbid I put her down and start a cry that will get the other one out of bed. I finish making the bottle and feed it to her.
Mid feeding I here, "mommy?" I look at maggie hoping that she is a genius 7 month old and pretend that she said it. Then I see the real culprit out of my peripheral vision. I was pretty sure I had just threatened no Santa if she got out of bed, so I know it can't be Sienna. It is. Testing me. Pushing the limits. "Mommy I want water." I'm pretty sure she wants to not be in bed and not the water she's requesting, but it's a button she knows she can push because for some reason I equate saying no to water with child abuse in my head. Irrational, yes, I'm aware. I tell her to go to bed and I will bring her a cup in when I lay maggie down. She surprisingly goes to bed without argument. I think she was passing the proverbial baton to maggie in the drive mommy bonkers relay.
I finish feeding mags, get sienna a sippy cup with one hand, give it to sienna in bed, then lay mags down, swaddle her like I'm roping a calf, strap her into the boppy knock off, put the paci in, and walk out. Then I hear it. A little whimper. So sad even Hitler could not ignore it. Sienna in a taunting baton passing voice says,"Mommy, maggie doesn't want to sleep." I go sooth her and walk away.
Repeat that process until 10:12. Then my hero walks in. What the kids always forget is that I also have a partner in this relay. I pass the baton. I make a smore. Not ww approved, but stress approved. My hero gets the baby. He rocks her. He lovingly responds to all the,"Daddy!" cries coming from the other room. He gets the baby asleep. Gives hugs and kisses to Sienna. He looks at me like, "that wasn't so hard." I blog, because I know the truth.
Every night I start the same battle with her. I open up my scriptures and announce bed time. We read, preferably a new testament story about Jesus as a child, her favorite, and then time to brush teeth. If we make it to that point then we say prayers and turn on the night light, hugs and kisses, one quick story from memory, and night night, sleep tight don't let the bed bugs bite about ten times, and then she's out. That's if we make it there.
Not tonight. Tonight we got stuck on brushing teeth. I have made a new rule that she can only brush her teeth in the bathroom. I found toothpaste all over the place in the kitchen and spent the majority of the day cleaning up tooth paste from random spots. Hence the rule. Hence the before mentioned hate of change. Hence a meltdown. It started with wanting me to do everything, to me not doing anything the way she wanted, to her being unbelievably upset because her teeth someday will fall out. Logical right?
She cried for over an hour. I tried distracting, threatening, time outing, and praying. Nothing. I called my dad he talked to her for two seconds and all of a sudden she was okay, and T.V. sounded good to her. We went to the living room and sat down and I realized that she had manipulated me. Wasn't the bed the original goal? How was I all of a sudden okay with anything but the melt down? I pondered it then made up my mind that I would not be manipulated. I looked at her with all the courage I have and said,"no tv. bed." I picked her up, said a quick prayer with her, put her in bed, told her the three lil pigs, covered her up, turned on the night light, hugs and kisses from me and mags, and night night, sleep tight, no bed bug bites were said, and I was out of there.
Then on to maggie. This all started at 8. It's now 9:30. "Don't normal jobs end at 5?!" i think to myself. I make her bottle with one hand, my other around her waist balancing her on my hip. Heaven forbid I put her down and start a cry that will get the other one out of bed. I finish making the bottle and feed it to her.
Mid feeding I here, "mommy?" I look at maggie hoping that she is a genius 7 month old and pretend that she said it. Then I see the real culprit out of my peripheral vision. I was pretty sure I had just threatened no Santa if she got out of bed, so I know it can't be Sienna. It is. Testing me. Pushing the limits. "Mommy I want water." I'm pretty sure she wants to not be in bed and not the water she's requesting, but it's a button she knows she can push because for some reason I equate saying no to water with child abuse in my head. Irrational, yes, I'm aware. I tell her to go to bed and I will bring her a cup in when I lay maggie down. She surprisingly goes to bed without argument. I think she was passing the proverbial baton to maggie in the drive mommy bonkers relay.
I finish feeding mags, get sienna a sippy cup with one hand, give it to sienna in bed, then lay mags down, swaddle her like I'm roping a calf, strap her into the boppy knock off, put the paci in, and walk out. Then I hear it. A little whimper. So sad even Hitler could not ignore it. Sienna in a taunting baton passing voice says,"Mommy, maggie doesn't want to sleep." I go sooth her and walk away.
Repeat that process until 10:12. Then my hero walks in. What the kids always forget is that I also have a partner in this relay. I pass the baton. I make a smore. Not ww approved, but stress approved. My hero gets the baby. He rocks her. He lovingly responds to all the,"Daddy!" cries coming from the other room. He gets the baby asleep. Gives hugs and kisses to Sienna. He looks at me like, "that wasn't so hard." I blog, because I know the truth.
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| heaven help me. |
