If you could see me right now, you’d see me shaking my head and (to hubby’s vexation) rolling my eyes.
My dear daughter is going to be the death of me. With apologies to any gentleman readers I may be so lucky to have garnered, if I didn’t know she was seven years old, I would say she was fourteen and pre-menstrual. All. The. Time.
She’s so frustrating! Everything is drama. Everything is always wrong. It seems she is always ticked off at someone for some imagined slight. Every response is clipped and snotty. “No” is her favorite word. It doesn’t matter what we do, or don’t do, to incentivize her. Threatening her with loss of things she cares about (blankie, her stuffed dog, Cathy) doesn’t change anything; it just makes her madder. Or, she’ll start to cry those big crocodile tears, turn red, and storm out of the room hollering, “FINE! I’LL JUST GO IN MY ROOM AND NEVER COME OUT AGAIN!”
Please tell me this ends soon, and I’m not in for another seven, eight, nine years of this stuff? I might have to go jump off the nearest bridge.
As tough as she is when she’s awake, however, she is a dream (pun intended) at bedtime. After the struggle of getting her ready for bed, once she is actually in bed she’s usually asleep in about 5 minutes. She’s always been this way. By contrast, her brother, my dear son, is quite the opposite.
He’s much easier than she is (I’ve been told boys are easier than girls anyway – and so far, this is proving true in our household) but at night, he’s a nightmare (pun intended). He either has nightmares and wakes up scared, or he can’t sleep; almost every single night. Last night was no exception. I'd fallen into an exhausted sleep, but I was having a really terrible dream, so I was initially grateful to him when he woke me up with, “Mooo-om! I can’t sleep!” But actually, and unusually, I was somewhat scared myself (all I remember was that it was a doozy of a dream) and feeling like a chicken so I didn’t want to get out of bed. “Come on in here, buddy!” I hollered at him.
And like lightning, he was at my side. His little heart beating like hummingbirds wings. Poor kid. So I tucked him in beside me and we snuggled for a bit. I, drifting unfortunately back into a different, but equally stressful dream, and he, lying awake and staring at the ceiling. Finally, “Mom? Just let me know when you want me to go back to my room, OK?”
Me: Huh?
Him: Tell me when you want me to go back to my room.
Me: You want to go back?
Him: Yeah.
Me: OK – I’m coming.
I follow him into his room, tuck him back in, and go to the kitchen for a glass of water. Great. Now I’m awake. He and I probably spent the rest of the night with one or the other (or both) of us awake.
Unfortunately, this is a pretty consistent pattern with him. He has never slept well. So while he’s usually cheerful and a delight to be around during the day, he’s a pain in my butt at night. And while she is becoming more and more troublesome during the day, she’s always been easy to deal with at night. Don’t get me wrong, she is a very sweet and loving child (or has been, up until recently) but…SHEESH!
Is it any wonder that I a) LOVE coffee and b) sleep in as often as it is possible to do so?
Also, in case you’re wondering, Hubby is completely deaf in one ear. So, if he’s sleeping on his good ear he hears none of this. Ever. So yes, the creatures I birthed are mine after dark. (Hm…I guess this adds more credence to those friends who have always believed I was somewhat vampiric?) Mwahahaha!!!
TTFN
JMS
My dear daughter is going to be the death of me. With apologies to any gentleman readers I may be so lucky to have garnered, if I didn’t know she was seven years old, I would say she was fourteen and pre-menstrual. All. The. Time.
She’s so frustrating! Everything is drama. Everything is always wrong. It seems she is always ticked off at someone for some imagined slight. Every response is clipped and snotty. “No” is her favorite word. It doesn’t matter what we do, or don’t do, to incentivize her. Threatening her with loss of things she cares about (blankie, her stuffed dog, Cathy) doesn’t change anything; it just makes her madder. Or, she’ll start to cry those big crocodile tears, turn red, and storm out of the room hollering, “FINE! I’LL JUST GO IN MY ROOM AND NEVER COME OUT AGAIN!”
Please tell me this ends soon, and I’m not in for another seven, eight, nine years of this stuff? I might have to go jump off the nearest bridge.
As tough as she is when she’s awake, however, she is a dream (pun intended) at bedtime. After the struggle of getting her ready for bed, once she is actually in bed she’s usually asleep in about 5 minutes. She’s always been this way. By contrast, her brother, my dear son, is quite the opposite.
He’s much easier than she is (I’ve been told boys are easier than girls anyway – and so far, this is proving true in our household) but at night, he’s a nightmare (pun intended). He either has nightmares and wakes up scared, or he can’t sleep; almost every single night. Last night was no exception. I'd fallen into an exhausted sleep, but I was having a really terrible dream, so I was initially grateful to him when he woke me up with, “Mooo-om! I can’t sleep!” But actually, and unusually, I was somewhat scared myself (all I remember was that it was a doozy of a dream) and feeling like a chicken so I didn’t want to get out of bed. “Come on in here, buddy!” I hollered at him.
And like lightning, he was at my side. His little heart beating like hummingbirds wings. Poor kid. So I tucked him in beside me and we snuggled for a bit. I, drifting unfortunately back into a different, but equally stressful dream, and he, lying awake and staring at the ceiling. Finally, “Mom? Just let me know when you want me to go back to my room, OK?”
Me: Huh?
Him: Tell me when you want me to go back to my room.
Me: You want to go back?
Him: Yeah.
Me: OK – I’m coming.
I follow him into his room, tuck him back in, and go to the kitchen for a glass of water. Great. Now I’m awake. He and I probably spent the rest of the night with one or the other (or both) of us awake.
Unfortunately, this is a pretty consistent pattern with him. He has never slept well. So while he’s usually cheerful and a delight to be around during the day, he’s a pain in my butt at night. And while she is becoming more and more troublesome during the day, she’s always been easy to deal with at night. Don’t get me wrong, she is a very sweet and loving child (or has been, up until recently) but…SHEESH!
Is it any wonder that I a) LOVE coffee and b) sleep in as often as it is possible to do so?
Also, in case you’re wondering, Hubby is completely deaf in one ear. So, if he’s sleeping on his good ear he hears none of this. Ever. So yes, the creatures I birthed are mine after dark. (Hm…I guess this adds more credence to those friends who have always believed I was somewhat vampiric?) Mwahahaha!!!
TTFN
JMS
1 comment:
No wonder you're yawning so much. And I thought it was just me...
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