I’m burning my candle at both ends right now. I’m sure I’m not alone. I’m sure there’s a million people burning their candle at both ends this time of year. I don’t mind it because it is only once a year…what I DO mind is the way my kids seem to be melting my candle from the middle on out.
Proof:
For the first time since she was a baby, my daughter threw a SCREAMING fit last night. When she was a baby, I would let her know that throwing a SCREAMING fit was completely unacceptable. Last night, I let it go. I know that she knew throwing a screaming fit was naughty. Besides, she was just trying to get some negative attention and I wasn’t about to give it to her. Here’s was happened: I had spent the day working hard on projects and as I worked, my children slowly tore the house down. Then we went shopping. Whilst shopping, I bought the supplies for the kids to paint a shirt for their Daddy -who is the BIG 30 today. My daughter was dying to paint. She had told me weeks ago that she was going to paint a shirt for Daddy for his birthday. She asked a million times over if it was time to paint. I told her she could paint as soon as the house was picked up.
“Make it brand new,” I said, putting it in her terms. She likes to call clean rooms “brand new.”
“Alright,” she’d say, and promptly get distracted.
“Make it brand new so you can paint,” I’d remind her.
“I’m going to,” she’d say and promptly get distracted.
Finally, the hour of reckoning came. I had asked her and asked her and asked her. She was not obeying. She was not listening. I had warned her that if she didn’t clean not only would she not get to paint… she would have to go to bed.
The clock struck 9 pm, and I broke the news to her: she had to go to bed. No painting.
She was devastated. I asked her if she knew why she was being sent to bed without painting.
“Because I didn’t obey,” she said, through tears. Watching my sweet girl cry is enough to break me, but I knew I had to stay strong and follow through. I put her in bed and went to the couch to stitch another sock monkey. My husband curled up on the floor next to me and put a movie in.
“I don’t wanna go to bed,” she wailed from her bedroom, “I don’t wanna go to my bed! I don’t LIKE my bed! And I’m MAD AT YOU MAMA! And I’m MAD AT YOU DADDY! And I don’t LIKE MY BED AND I DON’T LIKE MY KITCHEN AND I DON’T LIKE MY ROOM AND I DON’T LIKE THE VACUUM! AND I DON’T LIKE EVERYTHING!!!!!”
At this point, my husband and I both chuckled.
“We’re in trouble,” he said.
“Sounds like it,” I agreed.
Her screaming woke her brother up. He screamed. She screamed.
“I’m about to put a stop to this,” my husband said. I begged him not to.
“Please…” I said, “Let’s let it play out. She’s dying for us to go in there and we can’t do it. She knows what she did wrong.”
He agreed.
“I’m SO SAD AND MAD AT YOU MAMA!” She screamed, “I TELL YOU I JUST WANT A STORY RIGHT NOW! I’m JUST SCARED IN HERE AND MY BED IS SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO BUMPY!”
Again my husband and I started to chuckle. She sounded so irrational, and it was sorta cute.
“MY ROOM IS BUMPY!” She screamed.
Soon enough, she came out.
“I don’t wanna go to bed because,” she choked on her sobs, “I just wanna stay awake and I don’t need my room.”
“Honey,” I said, “Why did mom put you in bed?”
“Because I didn’t obey,” her crying came back full force.
“That’s right. And you need to go back to bed now, and you KNOW that screaming like that is very naughty. You had better stop it before you get a spanking.”
She wailed and went back into her room. A few minutes later, she was sounds asleep. A few minutes after that, her father was sound asleep.
An hour and a half later, I crawled into bed. I closed my eyes and started to drift off when I heard little feet outside my bedroom door.
“I just don’t NEED my bed,” a little voice whispered. Because she had learned her lesson, and because I would die if I didn’t get any sleep, I took her to the couch where she loves to sleep.
Again, I rehearsed to her why she got in trouble.
“When you wake up, you WILL pick this house up,” I said.
“Okay,” she smiled up at me, forgiving as always.
I got her a drink of milk and crawled back in bed. A couple hours later, my son woke up screaming for me.
I don’t know WHY they’re into screaming lately. Usually they just fuss, but lately they’ve been screaming outright. I got up, scooped him into my arms, snuggled down with him in his sister’s bed, and we both went to sleep. Thirty minutes later, my alarm went off in the other room. I hopped up to turn it off before it woke up THE BIRTHDAY BOY, but it was too late.
It woke him up.
And I got up so fast it woke my son up.
He followed me into my room and proceeded to crawl all over me.
“I needa gwink a’ milk,” he said. Over and over and over.
Finally he crawled down and fell asleep on the floor.
I woke up exhausted.
I will spend the day exhausted.
I will go to bed exhausted.
Tis the season.
My little candle melters:
Speak Your Mind