Preschool ended about 2 weeks ago. It seems like only yesterday that I got three hours, thrice weekly of time for myself. Time to clean, organize, exercise, do laundry.....or more realistically check Facebook. And then Pinterest. And then recheck Facebook.
So, maybe not a time of optimum productivity, but still nine very beloved hours per week.
Now, we return to summer. Or as I like to call it: "Park Season".
I know some parents out there absolutely hate taking their kids to parks. For some reason, I don't mind at all. You've got the sun on your back, wind in your hair. I can ignore the occasionally grit of sand in my teeth. What I do mind though, is lack of park etiquette from other parents. Let's consider some basic ground rules.
1. Who's the Boss-
Many working parents bring their children to the playground in the early evening hours. That is great. Only, sometimes instead of changing into sweatpants or umbros, they decide to keep on their boss pants. By that, I mean they act like they are still in the office by policing children that are not their own. You see, I am a SAHM (stay-at-home-mom) and the park is kind of my "office". I practically own this place with the hours I've logged here, but you don't see me flexing. I know this place like the back of my hand and can be a real asset to you. You may not know, but sometimes there are hidden dangers for parents at the park. Like the caterpillar tube. If you are above 4 feet tall you will get stuck and have to plant your face to the ground to wiggle free. Trust me, I know.
2. Parenting for Beginners-
Get off your phone. Maybe not the whole time, because as stated earlier, I understand the necessity to check Facebook. Just be generally aware of where your child/children are and what they are doing. I stand firm by this rule, but it should be noted that I have smart phone envy. My flippy phone isn't quite the beaut it once was, back in the early 2000's.
3. Have fun-
Just relax. Try to enjoy yourself and your kids a little bit. They are only young once and will soon stop asking you to play with them. Watch them. Really observe them. Notice how much joy they get out of the simplest things. I know, I know, I know. Sometimes they can be mini Mussolini's, but pay attention when they are not. Children are a gift, and sometimes you need to slow down and remind yourself why.
Though I look forward to the return of preschool, I will keep in mind that these times are fleeting. I would say that I will stop and smell the roses, but lets face it, nothing about little boys smells like roses. And keep repeating my mantra:
"Everyday is one day closer to preschool."
Saturday, June 22, 2013
Friday, June 21, 2013
My brother, My dentist
When most people have a cavity, they call their dentist. When I get a cavity I call my brother. That's right, my brother and my dentist are one and the same. True story. Now, having your brother as your dentist is a little... different.
You see, when your sibling is going to be holding a drill in your mouth, you start to reflect back on some of your childhood memories. The ones where your behavior was less than upstanding. Suddenly the thought pops into your mind, "Hmm...maybe this isn't the smartest idea...". Though my brother and I got along well enough, there was one particularly "sticky" situation that always seems to replay in my mind. I will try and recall it as well as I can remember.
When I was probably about 4, making my brother about 8, we liked to jump on my parents bed. One night my mother was sitting atop the bed as we jumped and giggled. This would be just another lovely idyllic memory from my childhood, had it not been for the fact that I also happened to have gum in my mouth. Big League Chew gum to be exact. At some point amid all the fun, I noticed the gum had fallen out. Being 4-years-old and of a particular sort of personality, I took note of the absence and told myself to remember to try and find it once I was done having my fun.
Well, the fun came to an abrupt halt when my mother reached behind her head only to discover a nice, fat, freshly chewed wad of gum embedded in her hair. I imagine some sort of shrieking and panic occured. My dad rushed to the scene, and I braced myself for the impending punishment only to be asked "Whose gum was it?".
Hmmm.....
Whose gum WAS it? Hmmm....
Clearly, I only had two options to pick from and both my brother and I knew the honest answer. But, you see, I had been having a rough week. I had been getting in trouble left and right and my parents just always seemed to be on my tail. Meanwhile, my brother had been his perfect, usual self. It was with that sticking point in mind that my 4-year-old brain determined it would be completely acceptable to let him take the fall. Maybe I shouldn't say "let him" since that infers there was some sort of offer on his part. No such offer was ever made.
So, I said it was his gum. Given the previous weeks behavior, I was pretty sure they would call my bluff, but they didn't. My brother said that it was mine, yet for some odd reason they still believed me. Needless to say, I stuck with my "not guilty" plea.
As my brother was sent to his room (whilst giving me a look of utter exasperation and annoyance) to have a talk with my dad, I sat back and watched my mother put glob after glob of peanut butter in her hair.
Ahhhh, memories.
I did air the truth of this incident eventually, though I waited until enough time had passed for my mothers hair to recover.
Which, I guess, wasn't until college.
Given the gum situation, my brother could really get some due vindication. If he was a lesser sibling, he could make the process of filling my cavities take longer than necessary. If he was a lesser dentist, he could probably deem it justifiable to do so. Luckily, he is neither.
He is an excellent brother and a gifted dentist. He is generous and honest, kind and forgiving. I am very fortunate to call him my brother. And, just as fortunate that he agreed to filling the 3 Jolly Rancher induced cavities that are in my mouth as we speak.
FYI to Parents: Keep your kids off the candy. Or consider a future in dentistry.
You see, when your sibling is going to be holding a drill in your mouth, you start to reflect back on some of your childhood memories. The ones where your behavior was less than upstanding. Suddenly the thought pops into your mind, "Hmm...maybe this isn't the smartest idea...". Though my brother and I got along well enough, there was one particularly "sticky" situation that always seems to replay in my mind. I will try and recall it as well as I can remember.
When I was probably about 4, making my brother about 8, we liked to jump on my parents bed. One night my mother was sitting atop the bed as we jumped and giggled. This would be just another lovely idyllic memory from my childhood, had it not been for the fact that I also happened to have gum in my mouth. Big League Chew gum to be exact. At some point amid all the fun, I noticed the gum had fallen out. Being 4-years-old and of a particular sort of personality, I took note of the absence and told myself to remember to try and find it once I was done having my fun.
Well, the fun came to an abrupt halt when my mother reached behind her head only to discover a nice, fat, freshly chewed wad of gum embedded in her hair. I imagine some sort of shrieking and panic occured. My dad rushed to the scene, and I braced myself for the impending punishment only to be asked "Whose gum was it?".
Hmmm.....
Whose gum WAS it? Hmmm....
Clearly, I only had two options to pick from and both my brother and I knew the honest answer. But, you see, I had been having a rough week. I had been getting in trouble left and right and my parents just always seemed to be on my tail. Meanwhile, my brother had been his perfect, usual self. It was with that sticking point in mind that my 4-year-old brain determined it would be completely acceptable to let him take the fall. Maybe I shouldn't say "let him" since that infers there was some sort of offer on his part. No such offer was ever made.
So, I said it was his gum. Given the previous weeks behavior, I was pretty sure they would call my bluff, but they didn't. My brother said that it was mine, yet for some odd reason they still believed me. Needless to say, I stuck with my "not guilty" plea.
As my brother was sent to his room (whilst giving me a look of utter exasperation and annoyance) to have a talk with my dad, I sat back and watched my mother put glob after glob of peanut butter in her hair.
Ahhhh, memories.
I did air the truth of this incident eventually, though I waited until enough time had passed for my mothers hair to recover.
Which, I guess, wasn't until college.
Given the gum situation, my brother could really get some due vindication. If he was a lesser sibling, he could make the process of filling my cavities take longer than necessary. If he was a lesser dentist, he could probably deem it justifiable to do so. Luckily, he is neither.
He is an excellent brother and a gifted dentist. He is generous and honest, kind and forgiving. I am very fortunate to call him my brother. And, just as fortunate that he agreed to filling the 3 Jolly Rancher induced cavities that are in my mouth as we speak.
FYI to Parents: Keep your kids off the candy. Or consider a future in dentistry.
Monday, May 13, 2013
Noah's Hail Mary
Every 3-year-old has a proverbial "Hail Mary" in their repertoire when it comes to delaying bedtime. Some kids request water, others want to read books, but all Noah ever really wants is to talk. Every time he is being put to bed he turns to me and says:
"I sorry Mama. I just want talk, and talk, and talk, and talk. It so nice."
How much does a 3-year-old really have to talk about?
Well, here is tonight's list:
* "Babies need be careful. Rain coming. They bump heads." (FYI this is referencing baby showers and "Rain, Rain Go Away".)
* "Daddy need me. He want play pillow fight."
* "Where Grandpa? Why he not fixing things? He need big, big hug. He best friend, my ever. He so cute. "
* "I have tell you a secret, Mama. (Whispers into my ear.) Nuggets, fries, cake, 38, nuggets, zebra, daddy, nuggets, happy birthday, Isla, fries, nuggets, Teacher Jane, grass, nuggets, ketchup."
* "Why you so crabby?"
* "I too heavy. I need kite."
* "My curtains so nice."
* "Look Mama, I have fingers! You have fingers too! My fingers beautiful."
* "You so funny Noah! Tickle, tickle, tickle..."
And he is still going...
And going...
And going...
"I sorry Mama. I just want talk, and talk, and talk, and talk. It so nice."
How much does a 3-year-old really have to talk about?
Well, here is tonight's list:
* "Babies need be careful. Rain coming. They bump heads." (FYI this is referencing baby showers and "Rain, Rain Go Away".)
* "Daddy need me. He want play pillow fight."
* "Where Grandpa? Why he not fixing things? He need big, big hug. He best friend, my ever. He so cute. "
* "I have tell you a secret, Mama. (Whispers into my ear.) Nuggets, fries, cake, 38, nuggets, zebra, daddy, nuggets, happy birthday, Isla, fries, nuggets, Teacher Jane, grass, nuggets, ketchup."
* "Why you so crabby?"
* "I too heavy. I need kite."
* "My curtains so nice."
* "Look Mama, I have fingers! You have fingers too! My fingers beautiful."
* "You so funny Noah! Tickle, tickle, tickle..."
And he is still going...
And going...
And going...
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Dating
What do you get when you take one shy, overly sensitive girl and match her up with a "life of the party", sports addicted guy?
Drama.
Good, old fashioned drama.
Since we have been married though, the drama and arguments have lessened. Which is a stark contrast from when we dated. Back then, we liked to keep things at a high "rate of disagreement". There were actually two distinct points in our relationship where we nearly broke up, over areas of very critical importance. What, you ask, were the areas of importance to a 20-year-old Tim and 21-year-old Mel?
Intramural basketball and mashed potatoes (this shows the maturity level we were working with).
Being the clumsy younger sister to an athletically inclined older brother, I have watched my share of youth sporting events. So, when Tim asked me to attend two college intramural basketball games he would be playing in, I agreed begrudgingly. This "Wasn't my first walk around the block", and it took alot for me to muster up enough enthusiasm to attend.
The games took place in a rec center, alongside three other matches. There were no bleachers (or other fans), so I stood on the sidelines next to the other players holding a sign. Yep, holding a sign. Tim had thought it would be cool to have a sign to cheer him on, so I dutifully made one. When the second game came around, remembering the lack of fanfare from the first, I opted to go out to dinner instead. Tim called me later that night and spoke words I hadn't been anticipating: We need to talk.
Sitting In Car with Somber Tim:
Me: So....
Tim: I am very disappointed in you. (Nose in the air, looking out the window.)
Me: Wait. What are you talking about? Why?
Tim: You did not come to my basketball game.
Me: The intramural one? (I thought he may have been talking about an Xbox game.)
Tim: Yes. It was very important to me. (Head shaking)
Me: (giggling) Are you being serious?
Tim: Yes. Why did you not come?
Me: I decided to go out to dinner with a friend instead.
Tim: This is the most upset I have ever been in my whole life. You really let me down.
Me: (baffled). I'm sorry...I had no idea that intramural basketball was so...important to you. I will remember that next time.
Tim: There won't ever be another game for you to watch me play!
This conversation took place about 10 years ago and if you are wondering why I can recall it so well, it's because it was the most puzzling conversation I have ever had. Other than asking me to go to these games, Tim had never expressed interest in me viewing him participate in anything other than watching him play Xbox. But, lesson learned, I guess.
There are two types of people in this world. Those who allow others to eat from their plate and those who prefer not to cross contaminate, risking illness and infection. Unsurpringly, I fall into the latter category. Tim does not share my beliefs and this is where our problem began.
We were out to eat, disagreeing about something I am unsure of at the moment. What I am sure of, is that it was a tense meal and we both sat stubbornly and silently eating our food.
I had ordered the meatloaf and mashed potatoes and was actually enjoying it, despite my displeasure with my co-diner. Tim was trying to continue to discuss whatever the issue had been, and (being the older, more mature one) I ignored him. I wouldn't speak a word to the poor boy. What happened next was catastrophic:
Tim reached over and stuck his fork in my mashed potatoes.
It may not sound bad now, but it was bad. Very, very bad. I proceeded to hand Tim the rest of my food, get up from the table and walk out the door. I wandered around the adjacent mall, wondering "How can I continue to date him, if he can't even respect my potatoes?".
Needless to say it never happened again.
So, I guess the take away from this is, considering how seriously we took these trivial topics, we really deserved one another.
Really.
Drama.
Good, old fashioned drama.
Since we have been married though, the drama and arguments have lessened. Which is a stark contrast from when we dated. Back then, we liked to keep things at a high "rate of disagreement". There were actually two distinct points in our relationship where we nearly broke up, over areas of very critical importance. What, you ask, were the areas of importance to a 20-year-old Tim and 21-year-old Mel?
Intramural basketball and mashed potatoes (this shows the maturity level we were working with).
Intramural Basketball
Being the clumsy younger sister to an athletically inclined older brother, I have watched my share of youth sporting events. So, when Tim asked me to attend two college intramural basketball games he would be playing in, I agreed begrudgingly. This "Wasn't my first walk around the block", and it took alot for me to muster up enough enthusiasm to attend.
The games took place in a rec center, alongside three other matches. There were no bleachers (or other fans), so I stood on the sidelines next to the other players holding a sign. Yep, holding a sign. Tim had thought it would be cool to have a sign to cheer him on, so I dutifully made one. When the second game came around, remembering the lack of fanfare from the first, I opted to go out to dinner instead. Tim called me later that night and spoke words I hadn't been anticipating: We need to talk.
Sitting In Car with Somber Tim:
Me: So....
Tim: I am very disappointed in you. (Nose in the air, looking out the window.)
Me: Wait. What are you talking about? Why?
Tim: You did not come to my basketball game.
Me: The intramural one? (I thought he may have been talking about an Xbox game.)
Tim: Yes. It was very important to me. (Head shaking)
Me: (giggling) Are you being serious?
Tim: Yes. Why did you not come?
Me: I decided to go out to dinner with a friend instead.
Tim: This is the most upset I have ever been in my whole life. You really let me down.
Me: (baffled). I'm sorry...I had no idea that intramural basketball was so...important to you. I will remember that next time.
Tim: There won't ever be another game for you to watch me play!
This conversation took place about 10 years ago and if you are wondering why I can recall it so well, it's because it was the most puzzling conversation I have ever had. Other than asking me to go to these games, Tim had never expressed interest in me viewing him participate in anything other than watching him play Xbox. But, lesson learned, I guess.
Mashed Potatoes
There are two types of people in this world. Those who allow others to eat from their plate and those who prefer not to cross contaminate, risking illness and infection. Unsurpringly, I fall into the latter category. Tim does not share my beliefs and this is where our problem began.
We were out to eat, disagreeing about something I am unsure of at the moment. What I am sure of, is that it was a tense meal and we both sat stubbornly and silently eating our food.
I had ordered the meatloaf and mashed potatoes and was actually enjoying it, despite my displeasure with my co-diner. Tim was trying to continue to discuss whatever the issue had been, and (being the older, more mature one) I ignored him. I wouldn't speak a word to the poor boy. What happened next was catastrophic:
Tim reached over and stuck his fork in my mashed potatoes.
It may not sound bad now, but it was bad. Very, very bad. I proceeded to hand Tim the rest of my food, get up from the table and walk out the door. I wandered around the adjacent mall, wondering "How can I continue to date him, if he can't even respect my potatoes?".
Needless to say it never happened again.
So, I guess the take away from this is, considering how seriously we took these trivial topics, we really deserved one another.
Really.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Parenting 101
I think it is about time that I level with all the first time, soon-to-be parents out there. You have no clue what's headed your way and you are about to have your mind blown to smithereens. I know you've read all the books and know exactly what you are going to do, but you don't. You are going to spend hours a day reading to your newborn and playing Mozart, but you won't. You have every nutritious, organic meal planned out for the next five years, so there is really nothing that can go wrong, but it will.
Sure we tried, everyone tries. It's just not nearly as easy and simple as "they" make it seem. Once sleep deprivation sets in, it is survival of the fittest. You will do things you never would have imagined, just to make life easier. You will be put in situations that will blindside you. To help give you an idea of what exactly I am talking about, I have decided to list some of my most memorable parenting moments (fails):
*Toilet Paper Diaper- This is what happens when you go to the zoo unprepared. Baby mummification.
*Foolhardy Negotiations- Never, ever, ever negotiate with a spouse midsleep about getting up with the baby. In case anyone needs further clarification, this is when you are so exhausted that you make a "deal with the devil" (aka Your Spouse- Remember, this is survival of the fittest.) so that they will take your turn getting up with the baby. These are NEVER sound transactions.
*Baby Breakdancing- This is when you accidentally drop your baby on their head. (Twice.). Which is definitely not part of the plan. (Either time.)
*McDonalds- Before Noah was born I had planned on only organic natural foods. Now, if McDonalds had a gold card, we would not only own it, but be pictured on the front. Waving.
*Swinger Fail- When you put your "big boned" 6-month-old in a park swing and have to ask a random jogger to help "shimmy" your babies thighs out. Didn't see that one coming.
*Potty Non-Helper- Apparently, it isn't as easy as it looks to pee standing up. In my attempts to help Noah, more pee has gone on the floors, walls, and in the sink three feet behind us, than has actually entered the bowl. Men, on behalf of all the females that have judged your aerodynamic miscalculations, I apologize.
*The Dairy Queen- This is when you accidentally give your lactose intolerant child a nice, big bowl of ice cream. You will regret this many times in the hours that follow consumption.
As you can see, things happen. No parent is perfect and no child is perfect. Trust your instincts when the random craziness happens and cross your fingers. If necessary, feel free to refer back to this page/blog to feel a little better about yourself.
Oh, and pray. You'll need it. :)
Sure we tried, everyone tries. It's just not nearly as easy and simple as "they" make it seem. Once sleep deprivation sets in, it is survival of the fittest. You will do things you never would have imagined, just to make life easier. You will be put in situations that will blindside you. To help give you an idea of what exactly I am talking about, I have decided to list some of my most memorable parenting moments (fails):
*Toilet Paper Diaper- This is what happens when you go to the zoo unprepared. Baby mummification.
*Foolhardy Negotiations- Never, ever, ever negotiate with a spouse midsleep about getting up with the baby. In case anyone needs further clarification, this is when you are so exhausted that you make a "deal with the devil" (aka Your Spouse- Remember, this is survival of the fittest.) so that they will take your turn getting up with the baby. These are NEVER sound transactions.
*Baby Breakdancing- This is when you accidentally drop your baby on their head. (Twice.). Which is definitely not part of the plan. (Either time.)
*McDonalds- Before Noah was born I had planned on only organic natural foods. Now, if McDonalds had a gold card, we would not only own it, but be pictured on the front. Waving.
*Swinger Fail- When you put your "big boned" 6-month-old in a park swing and have to ask a random jogger to help "shimmy" your babies thighs out. Didn't see that one coming.
*Potty Non-Helper- Apparently, it isn't as easy as it looks to pee standing up. In my attempts to help Noah, more pee has gone on the floors, walls, and in the sink three feet behind us, than has actually entered the bowl. Men, on behalf of all the females that have judged your aerodynamic miscalculations, I apologize.
*The Dairy Queen- This is when you accidentally give your lactose intolerant child a nice, big bowl of ice cream. You will regret this many times in the hours that follow consumption.
As you can see, things happen. No parent is perfect and no child is perfect. Trust your instincts when the random craziness happens and cross your fingers. If necessary, feel free to refer back to this page/blog to feel a little better about yourself.
Oh, and pray. You'll need it. :)
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Number 1 in the Number 2 Business
If you have never had your sewer back up on you, you have lived a charmed life. There is a certain sorrow that enters ones soul when forced to clean up sewage and waste.
It changes you.
We have encountered this issue our share of times since we bought "the lemon" (aka our house) and eventually had our entire sewer line redone. The company we opted to use had a slogan that has become our potty training motto and future goal.
"We Are Number 1 in the Number 2 Business"
It changes you.
We have encountered this issue our share of times since we bought "the lemon" (aka our house) and eventually had our entire sewer line redone. The company we opted to use had a slogan that has become our potty training motto and future goal.
"We Are Number 1 in the Number 2 Business"
How great is that?!
I know you are thinking, "Wasn't this kid already potty trained?" and the answer would be, eh, not exactly. Though he is extremely proficient in 1, he has not yet mastered 2. Apparently, 1 and 2 don't always come together and sometimes (though extremely rare) 2 can come before 1.
So, Noah has been told that his new goal is to become "Number 1 in the Number 2 Business". Unfortunately, having enthusiasm, coming up with a motto and trying to explain what a "goal" is to a 3-year-old, won't bring you any closer to the desired result. Simply getting him to sit as opposed to standing is going to take great effort (from all parties). In our favor, we do know his personal warning signs and hope that through careful detection of what is coming and intervention, we will have success.
The Signs:
I know you are thinking, "Wasn't this kid already potty trained?" and the answer would be, eh, not exactly. Though he is extremely proficient in 1, he has not yet mastered 2. Apparently, 1 and 2 don't always come together and sometimes (though extremely rare) 2 can come before 1.
So, Noah has been told that his new goal is to become "Number 1 in the Number 2 Business". Unfortunately, having enthusiasm, coming up with a motto and trying to explain what a "goal" is to a 3-year-old, won't bring you any closer to the desired result. Simply getting him to sit as opposed to standing is going to take great effort (from all parties). In our favor, we do know his personal warning signs and hope that through careful detection of what is coming and intervention, we will have success.
The Signs:
* The Stalker- I am not sure what purpose this serves, but it seems predatory in nature. Noah seeks out a place to go do his business like a lion stalking it's prey (minus the stealth and element of surprise). He methodically and relentlessly seeks out the most conducive landscape that will yield success.
*The Blank Stare- This has always been a trademark of Noah's. I thought it might stop as he got older and became familiar with the process, but I was wrong. This sign is marked with an abrupt stop to all stalking efforts, and a look as if to say, "............".
Nothing.
Blank.
*The Look of Recognition- After blankness comes a look that I would describe as perplexed despair. It is a look that says "What's going on? Wait....oh no.....it's happening again?! Why does this keep happening to me?".
*The Scatter- A fast paced, survival of the fittest moment where Noah runs to the place so fervently scouted, slams a door and screams if movement is detected from an outside source. All it takes is for you to move into eyesight by just an inch, and the whole show could be derailed. Seriously people, all it takes is one inch.
Hopefully, knowing these signs will yield success and a future minus any sort of absorbent pad for this little boy. If knowledge of these signs prove unhelpful, I guess I am just getting schooled by my son, which is a very real possibility.
Nothing.
Blank.
*The Look of Recognition- After blankness comes a look that I would describe as perplexed despair. It is a look that says "What's going on? Wait....oh no.....it's happening again?! Why does this keep happening to me?".
*The Scatter- A fast paced, survival of the fittest moment where Noah runs to the place so fervently scouted, slams a door and screams if movement is detected from an outside source. All it takes is for you to move into eyesight by just an inch, and the whole show could be derailed. Seriously people, all it takes is one inch.
Hopefully, knowing these signs will yield success and a future minus any sort of absorbent pad for this little boy. If knowledge of these signs prove unhelpful, I guess I am just getting schooled by my son, which is a very real possibility.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Mind Games and Tomfoolery
Somewhere along the way, the "terrible twos" gained quite a bit of notoriety. I admit, two-year-olds are a selective, picky group that can be easily disgruntled. But, I believe the really terrible thing about two, is that it leads to three.
If you are unfamiliar with the 3-year-old crowd, let me introduce you. They are a dramatic, tempermental little "gang" that insist you meet their demands instantaneously, yet have no idea what they want. They will fight anything and everything, without logic or reason. When Noah was two, I knew I had the upper hand. At three, I would be lucky to just find the "hand". They have an arsenal of methods they use to drive you to the point of madness, but there is one method in which Noah has earned a PhD.
Delay of Sleep
Children of this age are notorious for doing anything to postpone their bedtime. Here is how Noah does it:
Me: OK. Time to go to sleep.
N: But Mama, I so cold. (Chatters teeth, on purpose). I need blanket.
Me: Ok, just a min-
N: Mama! Wow!! I not cold no more, I sooo warm!! (Takes arms out from under blanket, since he is so warm now)
Me: Okay...Why don't we stop talking so you can go to sleep?
N: But Mama, I itchy! I need you itch my belly!
Me: (Scratching very itchy belly)
N: Oh, Mama, you so silly! You tickled me! (Tries to start a tickle fight.)
Me: Let's try to be quiet now, ok?
N: But, I need a new bed.
Me: Why?
N: The dragons.
Me: Yeah?
N: They squishy.
(Me giving the silent treatment since I haven't a clue what to do about squishy dragons.)
N: Mama!.......Mama!........MAMA!!! Something push me!!
Me: Nothing pushed you. I was sitting right here.
N: No, something push me. (Points to blanket)
Me: Well, here let's just take that blanket off. (Blanket off.)
(Thirty second pause)
N: Mama?..... Mama?.........Mama?.......MAMA.MAMA.MAMA.MAMA.MAMA
Me: What Noah?
N: I soooo cold again! (Teeth chatter...again). I need blanket.
(Repeat 3x's)
Notice the drama? All that, just to delay sleep. I have actually witnessed this boy holding his eyelids open with his fingers because he "Wants not go to sleep.". Lord help me if this boy ever gets ahold of something containing caffeine.
Now, this sort of incident could easily have taken place with a two-year-old, but notice Noah's persistence in the fact that this conversation went around three times. Persistence is what I believe
separates the two's from the three's. Although, two-year-old's can probably throw a better tantrum, tantrums can lead to sleep. Sleep does not occur when dealing with the mind games or tomfoolery that exist in a three-year-olds repertoire. They play to win.
If you are unfamiliar with the 3-year-old crowd, let me introduce you. They are a dramatic, tempermental little "gang" that insist you meet their demands instantaneously, yet have no idea what they want. They will fight anything and everything, without logic or reason. When Noah was two, I knew I had the upper hand. At three, I would be lucky to just find the "hand". They have an arsenal of methods they use to drive you to the point of madness, but there is one method in which Noah has earned a PhD.
Delay of Sleep
Children of this age are notorious for doing anything to postpone their bedtime. Here is how Noah does it:
Me: OK. Time to go to sleep.
N: But Mama, I so cold. (Chatters teeth, on purpose). I need blanket.
Me: Ok, just a min-
N: Mama! Wow!! I not cold no more, I sooo warm!! (Takes arms out from under blanket, since he is so warm now)
Me: Okay...Why don't we stop talking so you can go to sleep?
N: But Mama, I itchy! I need you itch my belly!
Me: (Scratching very itchy belly)
N: Oh, Mama, you so silly! You tickled me! (Tries to start a tickle fight.)
Me: Let's try to be quiet now, ok?
N: But, I need a new bed.
Me: Why?
N: The dragons.
Me: Yeah?
N: They squishy.
(Me giving the silent treatment since I haven't a clue what to do about squishy dragons.)
N: Mama!.......Mama!........MAMA!!! Something push me!!
Me: Nothing pushed you. I was sitting right here.
N: No, something push me. (Points to blanket)
Me: Well, here let's just take that blanket off. (Blanket off.)
(Thirty second pause)
N: Mama?..... Mama?.........Mama?.......MAMA.MAMA.MAMA.MAMA.MAMA
Me: What Noah?
N: I soooo cold again! (Teeth chatter...again). I need blanket.
(Repeat 3x's)
Notice the drama? All that, just to delay sleep. I have actually witnessed this boy holding his eyelids open with his fingers because he "Wants not go to sleep.". Lord help me if this boy ever gets ahold of something containing caffeine.
Now, this sort of incident could easily have taken place with a two-year-old, but notice Noah's persistence in the fact that this conversation went around three times. Persistence is what I believe
separates the two's from the three's. Although, two-year-old's can probably throw a better tantrum, tantrums can lead to sleep. Sleep does not occur when dealing with the mind games or tomfoolery that exist in a three-year-olds repertoire. They play to win.
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