To say parenting is hard is a vast understatement. I know the rewards far exceed the tribulations. But in this moment, right now, I feel the weight of parenting bearing down on me with relentless ferocity. I love my kids more than I love anything. And the word anything is so inadequate. I mean, literally ANYTHING and EVERYTHING pales in comparison for the love I have for my kids. And that’s how it’s supposed to be. I assume that the amount of love we have reflects the amount of frustration we feel when we fail.
I couldn’t sleep last night after Kylee and I literally bumped heads. The blanket of guilt, what if’s and remorse covered me from head to toe. The blue print for our night didn’t seem very promising from the time I picked them up. We get home, after much screaming and fighting in the car, I said a quick prayer and we headed upstairs. It is my theory that the kids have some type a sensor or radar that notifies them when my back is turned. Logan was particularly moody last night. He is usually my easy child. But last night, being touched was a trigger, being played with was a trigger, oh, and being looked at was a trigger. So basically, Kylee and I had to ignore his existence. About 3 hours of refereeing, because I said so’s, stop touching him’s, No’s, and please stop screaming’s I could physically feel my hair turning gray. I deemed last night worthy of an early bedtime, for Logan at least. Kylee and I cuddled after he went to bed and watched TV together. Sounds effortless enough aye? No, Kylee has this way about her to constantly be on the prowl for a fight, or the opportunity to be right or prove someone wrong. Even when there is nothing to fight about or be right or wrong about. But in her obstinate way, she asks questions that literally have no answer, so in my attempt to provide an answer, she gets frustrated that it wasn’t the right answer. Basically, a lose lose situation. Que frustration!
Her bed time comes at the same time every night, like…um, CLOCKWORK! Yes that’s it; it comes every night like clockwork. However, also like clockwork comes her fits and tantrums; As if I am springing this alleged bedtime on her for the first time in her 4 years of living. How dare I, as her mother, insist on her sleeping in her own bed?! GASP! How dare I as her mother insist she go to bed at 8:30pm?! GASP! How dare I only allow her 2 additional shows to watch AFTER a night full of Disney Shake it Up?! GASP! What kind of mother AM I?! I am sure these are similar to the dramatics flowing thru her beautiful complex little big brain of hers.
Well as always, I have to remind her that she is a big girl whether she behaves that way or not, that she has a big girl bed of her own and needs to learn to sleep in it, etc, etc, etc. Same routine, same draining argument, same outcome, different day. Isn’t the definition of insanity to do the same things expecting a different result? Well aside from giving into her manipulation and toddler tantrums, I’m at a loss.
Ohh, the guilt! That’s right. I was laying her down in her bed, she began throwing a level 5 tantrum which consists of kicking her legs and other obnoxious crap. I took her by the arms to try and control her body and the volume of her voice she went limp on me and our heads collided together as if there was some magnetic connection insuring the maximum level of pain possible.. I’m sure we both saw stars.
I think it’s safe to say that nothing was accomplished last night, nothing was learned, and I’m certain I didn’t respond in the best of ways to insure a different outcome the next time… But I ended my night with a chick flick and cheetos… I woke up to Kylee saying good morning mommy, I love you… So all is not lost. We live to fight another day!