Born @ 27 weeks
2lbs 7oz

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Who Wants to Kick the Elf?

Sigh.

I did it again.

Successfully managed to screw up by my children enough to where instead of visions of sugarplums dancing in their heads after being tucked in, they are wailing like a mad cat, furious and destroyed that their worlds are falling apart.

I sit on the stairs, just outside their doors (after pouring myself a glass of wine) and retrace my steps…

****
It's the season and I'm in an especially good mood.
Everyone is rested, well fed and healthy.

Sure there is the normal squabble (i.e. Shaw clawing at Nash's eyes, while Nash kicks Shaw in the shins. You know the usual). But all in all manageable.

Today was especially exciting. Mommy got to open a new bank account!!

Sound exciting? Well, of course not. But turn on your 'Super Mommy' instincts (read: Desperation).

How on earth and I going to get two preschoolers to sit still AND QUIET long enough for me to open a bank account?

A bank tour, of course! Doesn't every small Mom & Pop bank offer a 'bank tour'? Well, they should and by damn if our new bank didn't start one today. In the 15 minutes it took me to sign all the paperwork, Nash and Shaw had held $10,000, touched the policeman's walkie talkie and earned a sucker.

Smart (or manipulative) Mom = 1 point

Next stop. The new library.

Nash & Shaw pick out their new library cards, knock over a few legos, select some Christmas books, transform the check out wands into lasers to shoot one another and we're outta there.

SCORE. Mom = 2pts

Lunch. check.
Naps. check.
Dressing to hit the mall to Christmas Shop (sans stroller)…. check. (I know. Self inflecting)

SHOCKINGLY. We all made it out unscathed.

Well, minus the moment I look over and my children are slithering across the department store floors pretending to be monster snakes, shouting, "ROAR!" to all the Christmas shoppers. I was busy checking out and at first glance - it wasn't my children being face down on the nasty floor that caused for pause, it was, "Hmmmm. I wonder why they think snakes roar?" Mommy brains. 

Sadly. At that moment, I made a note to myself to talk to the children about being on the floors (and roaring snakes) and hurried the sales woman at check out along, silently grateful that they are preoccupied for another 30 seconds before I can wrangle them back in.

Again, all in all benign.

So much so, I treated the boys to a 'Mommy Date' (something the boys love since they hear Daddy taking Mommy on dates. They get to order, pay, etc. very amusing). So we found a quiet corner (hidden with foliage and away from as many seated tables as possible) and had a fabulous festive dinner.

We talked a lot about why we purchased the Christmas gifts and how good it feels to give. We talked about Mary and Joseph and Baby Jesus…

Then the milk spilled, the crayons rolled off the table, Nash had to pee (so we all had to go, after finding the waitress to tell her that we are not ditching our bill)…. oh just life. You know the story. 

Home at last, draped in packages, full bellies, healthy hearts. I remember driving home, just a short while ago, screaming Rudolph to the top of our lungs, feeling so full. Grateful.

Tis the Season…

Bath. check.
PJs. check.
Storytime…and it all came tumbling down. 

Nash didn't want anyone in his bed (where we usually read as a family).
The flailing arms followed.
Then the stomping.
And finally, the 'ugly' cry, where their face is distorted and everything starts to unravel.

Oh no, not the ugly cry! This is serious. We are going to be here awhile.

The reasoning = Mom -1
The rationalizing = Mom -2
The calm approach.
The losing of patience.
The growing temper.
And then,

the line in the sand.
Lights out. No story.

DONE. It happens.

Sweet Shaw cuddles close to me and without saying, secretly loves having stories with his Mom all to himself. He won. Nash melted and he won.

And then, in a blink of an eye, without so much as a warning, 'sweet' Shaw turned into Tantrum Nash times 1,000!!!!!!!!

'Gnite Shaw. I am so lucky to be your Mommy' (my final words to both boys each night).

"Mommy, I have go pee pee." (Hard to resist when you are working so hard on potty training).
"Mommy, I have to go poopy." (ditto).
"Mommy, there are monsters." (%$#! I forgot the monster inspection before bed!)
"Mommy, covers." (Seriously, kid? I'm ignoring this one, since you had covers to begin with).

Pause to gather and execute full lung exerction.

"Mommy, where are you?"
"Mommy? M.mmm M. O. M. M. Y!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

And here I sit, with my glass of wine, at the foot of the stairs, with two wailing babies, feeling:

1) Taken advantage of (those turkeys are taking me for a ride)
2) Full of doubt (Did I lose my patience or was this my battle in a power struggle? Are they coming down with something? Did I miss something? What was different? Should I go back up? Does this re-instill bad behavior or reassure them they are loved?)
3) Dumbfounded. (What the hell happened?Seriously. What the hell happened?)
4) Disenchanted. (Who wants their kids to fall asleep like this?)
5) Failure. (Isn't happiness part of the Christmas card?) 

After kicking that snarky little elf I have to hide every night, I feel slightly better. Only I know the emotional highs and lows of a Mom will start again tomorrow.

Alive. check.

Hats off to you ladies (young and 'seasoned') it is the hardest job south of the north pole!


Wrapping with Mom. This cannot end well.







1 comment:

Heather Denis said...

With every blog post I read of yours, I feel more and more like I've found a kindred spirit. Thanks for the laughs and thanks for "normalizing" a mom's every day.