It's 9:53pm and my four year old is currently across the room with his hiney in the air singing "Where is thumpkin". Five minutes ago, he threw an empty Poland Springs bottle at me and hit the back of my head. (I'm not making this up. I don't have too. My life gives me a enough material, I don't have to have an imagination.)
I'm in favor of anything that helps the environment and saves energy, but this new daylight savings thing is *&^%ing killing me this week. Needless to say, my kids' circadian rhythms are a bit off right now.
For the most part, I'm a pretty good parent. Quality time, lots of affection, I validate, I listen, I don't spank, I'm getting better at pony tails and I may not be a rocket scientist, but I once pulled a MacGiver and fished a matchbox car out of the bottom of my circa 1953 radiator with nothing more than a jerry-rigged coat hanger and an ABC'ed piece of grape flavored bubble yum (extra sugar, extra sticky.. I stole it out of my daughter's three month old leftover halloween candy. Bubble yum is like the gorilla glue of the chewing gum family. I now keep it around like some people stock club soda for the occassional red wine emergency).
Anyway, despite all that. I know my weaknesses too. When it comes to bedtime, I suck.
Some nights aren't so bad. I actually love that half hour to 45 minutes each night that we lay down together, read stories and then lay in the dark together - the three of us - snuggled up, saying our last "I love you's" of the day and peacefully letting my mind wander and rest while waiting for them to nod off.
But other nights, it's just hell. Can you suffer from Stockholm Syndrome during a very specific time of day only .. oh, for example, between 7:30 - 9:30pm, roughly?
Honestly, I feel like the Patty Hearst of bedtime. Sometimes, I fight them. Sometimes, I'm in love with my captors. It's probably not very maternal of me - comparing my children to the Symbionese Liberation Army. But then again, there are nights I would rather be locked away in a closet and forced to answer to the name Tonya.
When does it get better? All my friends with teenagers say they have the opposite problem: they can't get their kids out of bed. I keep thinking there's got to be a sweet spot between toddlerhood and adolescence when they spend the just right amount of time in their beds.
If that's true, I can't wait. I hope it happens before Grey's Anatomy goes off the air. I hear its a good show.
I'm in favor of anything that helps the environment and saves energy, but this new daylight savings thing is *&^%ing killing me this week. Needless to say, my kids' circadian rhythms are a bit off right now.
For the most part, I'm a pretty good parent. Quality time, lots of affection, I validate, I listen, I don't spank, I'm getting better at pony tails and I may not be a rocket scientist, but I once pulled a MacGiver and fished a matchbox car out of the bottom of my circa 1953 radiator with nothing more than a jerry-rigged coat hanger and an ABC'ed piece of grape flavored bubble yum (extra sugar, extra sticky.. I stole it out of my daughter's three month old leftover halloween candy. Bubble yum is like the gorilla glue of the chewing gum family. I now keep it around like some people stock club soda for the occassional red wine emergency).
Anyway, despite all that. I know my weaknesses too. When it comes to bedtime, I suck.
Some nights aren't so bad. I actually love that half hour to 45 minutes each night that we lay down together, read stories and then lay in the dark together - the three of us - snuggled up, saying our last "I love you's" of the day and peacefully letting my mind wander and rest while waiting for them to nod off.
But other nights, it's just hell. Can you suffer from Stockholm Syndrome during a very specific time of day only .. oh, for example, between 7:30 - 9:30pm, roughly?
Honestly, I feel like the Patty Hearst of bedtime. Sometimes, I fight them. Sometimes, I'm in love with my captors. It's probably not very maternal of me - comparing my children to the Symbionese Liberation Army. But then again, there are nights I would rather be locked away in a closet and forced to answer to the name Tonya.
When does it get better? All my friends with teenagers say they have the opposite problem: they can't get their kids out of bed. I keep thinking there's got to be a sweet spot between toddlerhood and adolescence when they spend the just right amount of time in their beds.
If that's true, I can't wait. I hope it happens before Grey's Anatomy goes off the air. I hear its a good show.
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