Husband is at a rehearsal for a show next week. A friend’s band is doing a covers night and they asked him to sing a song so I am home alone tonight with three kids.
Bedtime gets started early here. The baby was in his crib at 6pm with his bottle. The older boy was in the bath and the eldest was I her room writing something.
She came in to show me. “How to be good”. I was very impressed! She knows the rules! Too bad she doesn’t actually follow them!
After bath, I read them a few of daddy’s old Smurfs and Ewoks comic books. Then it was time to get into bed. I told them a make-up story all about Princess Rose and the good transformer who worked with the Prince to rescue her from the bad transformer. But that story wasn’t enough, so I had to tell another one with Spiderman and how he became Spider-transformer after Optimus Prime injected him with nano-bots to assist the Autobots in taking down the bad transformer. (Neither kids has seen the Transformer movies, or the cartoon, but their daddy tells them these make-up stories all the time. I’m sure mine paled in comparison.)
Bedtime seemed to be going so well until it didn’t. Suddenly neither of them were settling down and my voice started increasing in tone and pitch, and I may have tapped her on the back a little harder than I had intended in an attempt to get her attention and stop sitting up in bed. I’d gotten hit in the face at least three times by the Spiderman doll and clearly had enough and that’s when the waterworks from the girl started:
“You never spend any time with me.”
“I just don’t know what to say to you.”
“Why do you always have to work?”
“Why can’t you just spend all your time with us?”
Oy. She’s a master manipulator. At the age of six!
Needless to say, bedtime took about 3 hours. It’s a little after 9pm, I haven’t had my dinner and I’m seriously considering opening a bottle of wine.
I swear I have no idea how my husband does this on a daily basis. He’s amazing.