Monthly Archives: November 2012
Oh, another bedtime that ends in Mommy (me) apologizing for screaming and yelling – mostly directed towards Brayden these days. I hate it. I hate feeling angry when it’s supposed to be all loves and cuddles and tucks into bed. Bed-time has become Battle-time.
I try to stay calm – because I know they feed off of my energy. I try to be fun and silly to distract from whatever is happening that shouldn’t be. I try… that’s all I can do, right? I’m a good Mom, I really am. But tonight I am just TIRED of yelling at bedtime! It isn’t fair to me, it isn’t fair to Brayden, and it isn’t fair to Zackery (who unfortunately gets to hear everything that – as mentioned above – is mostly directed at Brayden).
They are both in bed now, and bless Zackery for understanding it’s not all him (partially, yes, but minimal – at least tonight’s battle), and calmly climbing into bed and going to sleep. Brayden is still squirming around in his crib. I can hear the creaking of his mattress springs. He wants to be rocked some more. But I already did that!
I know it won’t last forever – me having to rock him – but I’m getting tired of that too. The one thing that I tell myself is that he won’t want to be rocked in 5 years, 10 years, 20 years – so I better get my rocking in now. At least I was conscious enough to have us all take deep breaths (mainly so I could calm myself down) before lights went off and I sat down in that perfectly worn-in sage green rocking chair, with Brayden’s head nestled into my left shoulder, his arms tucked under his tummy. Okay, yes, this image… is making me feel better. Another deep breath…
Bedtime battles. I know I’m not the only one who has them. And I KNOW they won’t last forever. Zackery is my example of hope. Now don’t get me wrong, he’s not perfect, he still knows how to press my buttons, but compared to last year, or 5 years ago when we had to sleep on the floor next to him just for him to go to bed – yes, I have high hopes!
It’s quiet now. Just the clicking of my keyboard as I type this and the gentle humming of my outdated laptop. I think I’m going to go prop my feet up and finish off the last little bit of Chardonnay. Cheers!
Oops… spoke to soon…
Yes, I did it. I did it twice, in fact. And both times it felt really good. I was hot on fire and ready for a third time.
No, it’s not what you think. Although, that does sound like a little bit of fun… *wink wink* Wait? Are we on the same page here? Um, oops, sorry. Ha ha! My wandering mind…
So yes, I did it. It wasn’t a marathon, I didn’t clean the house from top to bottom, I didn’t make a most scrumptuous pot roast feast. I didn’t rake the leaves or lose those last ten pounds (well, maybe it’s more like 12-15 after a summer of wine and ice cream) of baby weight – and yes, my babies are still at home, so I still consider it baby weight. 🙂
What DID I do? I’ll tell you. I put soap in Brayden’s mouth. And yes, I did it twice. He did not like it one bit. It was just a tiny little bit of dish washing soap (so I know it won’t hurt him) – the clear, unscented kind (so I know he’s not going to burp yellow, lemon-scented bubbles).
It was dinner time, and for the last time he was rambling off (and enjoying it quite too much) his “bad” words. He wasn’t swearing (thankfully my husband and I have managed to refrain from any of those you know, adult languages around the boys, and in fact we have both lowered our count of verbalizing our emotions with such graphic words, although I must admit I was always more at fault than he was). Needless to say, Brayden was not understanding that he was not supposed to say the words he was saying, so after a couple weeks of threatening to put soap in his mouth to wash away the dirty words, I finally gathered my Mommy powers and did it. Right at the dinner table, right in front of Zack – who was stunned and didn’t think I was actually going to do it, let alone a second time. And I was ready for a third.
I’m not particualrly proud of this, but I will give myself a pat on the back for following through on what my husband and I both kept saying would happen. It didn’t stop him entirely, he did spout off a few more bad words again later, but it was during bath so I just yanked him out of the tub and called that that.
My husband and I both had siblings that had soap put into their mouths. I remember the incident with my sister well. It was a pure white bar of ivory soap. I was grateful it wasn’t me (even though at the time I had not much clue as to what it means to be truly grateful). So I guess a little of what happened tonight was “like Mother, like Daughter.” And a little of it was just pure, clean discipline – literally.
So beware little Brayden, don’t test me, or I will bring out my soap-wielding hands again…