1) breaking things
2) punching people
3) making himself throw up
4) launching food and overturning dinner plates
5) marking his territory with urine
6) stashing, storing, smearing, or otherwise playing with his own excrement
7) sneaking out and getting drunk with the guys...
8) hooking up with the loose girls at day care
9) making fake IDs with my iPhone
10) having nightmares, really falling apart...
I guess an occasional 2 hour bedtime show-down is small potatoes.
At first, I thought it was standard stalling and tried to be firm. But 30 mins in (20 mins after his older brother had started snoring), I stopped focusing on getting what I wanted and just started rummaging through drawers for a white flag to wave...
When he sat on the top stair, twinkled his non-tired eyes, rested his full, puffy cheeks in his not-so-tiny hands and answered my, "You are going to bed right now" with:
"No. I'm not." Then he got quieter: "I. Am. Not... Not going to bed... Not tonight."
Then he looked at me, with pity and exhaled: "no. I'm not."
Serious as a heart attack.
People, I know when I'm beat. My mama did NOT raise a fool. I'm all about being the adult - "the parent" and setting limits. But it was the calm in his eyes- like the sea in a glossy travel brochure; it was his non agitated, purposeful stare...
And as Yoda- oops, I mean - JAKE told me earlier today, "Mommy, do you know the secret to beating your enemies? Make them your friends."
"Okay," I told my curly haired challenger, "If you're not going to bed, come down here and and help me clean up. You can start by cleaning up your cars."
Trying to get them to bed early on transition day, I had planned to return the 17 die cast metal cars (we counted them aloud 4 times as he parked then in the shape of letters (and one time in the shape of a "mark" that I when I tilted my head a little I realized was a pretty perfect "question mark") away.
When the cars were away, I had him put the couch cushions back and fluff the throw pillows. Then I told him to go get two books and we read them each - twice. Then we headed upstairs and drank a small dixie cup of water and as I laid him down, we talked about his day: The hole he dug in the sand (It was huge)... The sand he put on the slide (even though his teachers told him not to put sand on the slide)... We talked about kindergarten coming up in the fall.
When he sat on the top stair, twinkled his non-tired eyes, rested his full, puffy cheeks in his not-so-tiny hands and answered my, "You are going to bed right now" with:
"No. I'm not." Then he got quieter: "I. Am. Not... Not going to bed... Not tonight."
Then he looked at me, with pity and exhaled: "no. I'm not."
Serious as a heart attack.
People, I know when I'm beat. My mama did NOT raise a fool. I'm all about being the adult - "the parent" and setting limits. But it was the calm in his eyes- like the sea in a glossy travel brochure; it was his non agitated, purposeful stare...
And as Yoda- oops, I mean - JAKE told me earlier today, "Mommy, do you know the secret to beating your enemies? Make them your friends."
"Okay," I told my curly haired challenger, "If you're not going to bed, come down here and and help me clean up. You can start by cleaning up your cars."
Trying to get them to bed early on transition day, I had planned to return the 17 die cast metal cars (we counted them aloud 4 times as he parked then in the shape of letters (and one time in the shape of a "mark" that I when I tilted my head a little I realized was a pretty perfect "question mark") away.
When the cars were away, I had him put the couch cushions back and fluff the throw pillows. Then I told him to go get two books and we read them each - twice. Then we headed upstairs and drank a small dixie cup of water and as I laid him down, we talked about his day: The hole he dug in the sand (It was huge)... The sand he put on the slide (even though his teachers told him not to put sand on the slide)... We talked about kindergarten coming up in the fall.
He didn't know that I had already decided I wouldn't even be trying to leave his lower bunk bed until I was dismissed.
Back when I worked in the ICU, I had this little rule, if a patient/or family rang his/her call bell 3 times within 20 minutes, I would pack up my charts and go in there and sit. I would first see what they needed, and answer their question or request; BUT then I would pull up a chair or desk and sit there yammering and/or charting until the patient and/or family would say something like, "You must have other work you have to do."
Back when I worked in the ICU, I had this little rule, if a patient/or family rang his/her call bell 3 times within 20 minutes, I would pack up my charts and go in there and sit. I would first see what they needed, and answer their question or request; BUT then I would pull up a chair or desk and sit there yammering and/or charting until the patient and/or family would say something like, "You must have other work you have to do."
When I stopped peppering Milo with questions and the conversation started to lull, I didn't make a move to leave. I didn't even shift my weight, but still he grabbed my face and whined: "I NEED you." I held my hands over his hands, tight on my cheeks.
"I need you and love you too," I replied
"I WANT you." He pulled me tighter.
"I'm right here." I kissed both his palms and offered him mine.
"I ALWAYS need and want you."
"Me too." More kisses on his hands and arms
"You always... yell at me."
I laugh. "I SOME-times yell at you when you don't listen, but I am not yelling right now."
I snuggled in closer. "I'm staying right here until you tell me I should go."
Literally 10 seconds pass.
"When you hear the 'DING' you go.... DING!" He high-pitched the last word into a flawless, one-toned bell.
"Okay, when I hear that noise, I should go?"
"No. It ding'd. You should go now... it already ding'd."
Now I'm laughing, hard: "Wait... Now? go now???"
"Yes. You have to. It already Ding'd. Sorry. I love you. Now go."
Bahahahahahahaha!
Seriously, this kid is ridiculous.
3 comments:
Love this! It's totally true if you pull up a chair and chart and chat, most patients get pretty sick of you pretty quick. Sometimes the call bell is just ringing to assure them you will show up and they are not alone. You are a great Mom.
thanks ..............
Thank YOU, Jasmine Nile (for reading)!
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