So tonight my youngest and I had our typical roller coaster of a night. Things we’re fine until bedtime. Really good actually. He came to snuggle with me on the couch and told me he loves me to the moon and back. I held him for a few, and gave him a few aggressive kiss attacks that had him laughing the sweetest noise you’ve ever heard. But I knew those giggles would quickly fade because I realized it was bed time.
I swear, if this kid realizes you even think the words “bed” and “time” to close together, he loses his mind.
So we lock eyes after I looked at the clock and he instantly started crying. What the hell, kid. How quickly he can turn. At that time, L1 came to get ready for bed without battle, so we were all then crammed into the guest bathroom for teeth-brushing and tears. Parenting is so much fun! Little did I know our night was just beginning.
Being the clever mom that I am, and realizing that I had no energy to fight with these guys, I asked if anyone wanted to sleep in my bed. Cue the pendulum swinging the other way… It almost seemed as if those tears got sucked back in right where they came from, and all of a sudden my youngest was so happy again.
“Perfect” I thought. Tomorrow is trash day and had a lot of things to do before I could get to bed, so I didn’t really care where they slept. I just needed them to go to bed.
After 10 minutes and my second trip in my room, I caught L2 with his feet across his frustrated big brother. I took him out of my room and asked him why he was doing that. He said he didn’t have his feet on him! 😳 😳 I LITERALLY SAW YOU!!! After several chances at telling the truth I put him in his own bed instead of mine. It wasn’t my intention, but I felt in that moment like I needed to make an example out of not telling the truth. Wrong.
Fast forward AN HOUR AND 16 MINUTES. He was STILL crying. I don’t know if it makes me feel like a bad mom for sticking it out that long, or a proud mom that he can stand his ground that long. I’m somewhere in the middle of those two, for sure. Maybe both. I’m too tired to process the thought.
Anyway. On to current time. I’m writing this with a snoring 3.75 year old on my lap, because I couldn’t listen to “I want mommy” for another second.
Parenting a strong willed child is freaking hard. Especially alone. In this world where nothing you do is right, and everyone has an opinion. The most challenging role in this world has to be that of a parent.
But, it’s almost my birthday, I’ve got two healthy (smart, strong willed, crazy, funny) kids and a lot of other things to be thankful for. So I’ll keep on keeping on, with my glass jumbo of wine, of course.
❤ MS Andrea Jackson