The mouths of babes

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!

 

Listen. No talking back. Do something the firs time you are asked. Do as you are told. Focus your ears. Do not ignore. And all this information is good.

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.

The 4-year-old.

This popped up on my FB feed this morning.

I immediately wanted to paste a photo of my daughter in place of the lovely woman on the phone.

Harsh?  Maybe a little.

Accurate?  Damn straight.

I don’t know what it is about mornings, but daughter (who will be 4 in late November) has been waking up more times than not, grumpy.  She comes into our room demanding breakfast, turns on the lights, wants my phone or wants some milk.  My alarm hasn’t even gone off (hell, who needs one with this kid?).  She’s a great kid.  She is just hellish in the morning… oh, and right before bed.

Over the last month or so, her  “time outs”  are increasing exponentially.  She just does not listen, or do what she’s told.  Either she is wrapped up in a book, or with drawing that she just isn’t paying attention to us, or she is deliberately ignoring us.  When my parents witness the behavior, I can see the smirk that comes across their face.  The expression, “what goes around, comes around” comes to mind.

Time and again, while talking to patients in the office, particularly parents, I hear the expressing, “the effing fours”.  Really?  That’s just a myth, right? Right??  Sadly, I think I’m deluding myself, especially when I see this wonderful blogger describing what my life has been like the last few days.  Just when I thought we were getting into a good eating phase, she does a complete 360 on me and it’s back to the refusal… of everything (that doesn’t have chocolate in it.)

Don’t get me wrong, watching my kid come into her own personality and seeing her doing things independently is wonderful.  I know everything she is doing is right for her age, I just wish it wasn’t so trying sometimes. Why does bedtime have to be a battle?  (Speaking of battle, we just got this book from Scholastic – brilliant!)  I know I have it pretty easy.  Five out of 7 days of the week, I only have to deal with the morning and afternoon crazies.  The rest of the day I am dealing with the adult crazies (ha! ha!).  Hats off to my husband who is in the trenches with the kids 7 days a week.

I have to say though, that despite the occasional (okay, somewhat daily) epic meltdowns daughter is having lately, she is an amazing big sister.  She and little brother are playing more and more together every day.  She is teaching him so much. Just this morning she pointed to a picture of Elmo and said, “Who’s this?” and he responded, “Eh-mo”.  Cue big grin from him and proud smile from her.  It was so adorable.  Almost daily, there is a few minutes in the day when big sister and little brother sit on the couch and “read” a book together.  It’s one of the best parts of the day.

I love my 4-year-old.  She drives me crazy sometimes, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The Dog Days of Summer

It’s been a busy few weeks. Wish I could say the office renovation went smoothly, but I’d be lying. Since when does a renovation ever go smoothly? Anyway, after much worry that we wouldn’t reopen the office in time, we were only delayed a day or two, and though it’s not exactly perfect, it will do for now.

It’s been a great summer. I spent some great quality time with my family and started getting back into shape. I spent time with friends and am building strong new foundations for lasting friendships. Good friends of ours adopted a beautiful baby boy. I even went standup paddleboarding with some girlfriends! I couldn’t have asked for a better summer.

I didn’t miss the office once, but it sure is great to be back practising medicine. The office has gotten a great facelift and it is a pleasure walking into the office again. It was so dreary before. I am looking forward to the routine of work again.

Hard to believe but my daughter is starting JK this fall. She has been in preschool for about a year now, so it’s not going to be that huge a transition. Still, she’s entering the public school system! It blows my mind how fast the last 4 years went.

This blog is coming up to its one year blogiversary. Yes, I made that word up. It’s sometime in September, I can’t remember the date exactly. I’ll have to think of something brilliant to post about. Better start now!

Losing one’s s$*t!

I was in the middle of writing another post when I saw this on my FB news feed.  HOLD.THE.PHONE!  This is a brilliant writing prompt.

I am grateful to have a husband who wants to stay home with our kids.  I would probably have a nervous breakdown if I had to do the day in and day out stay-at-home-mom thing.  I’m itching for the work week to start by the end of some weekends.  I applaud all the women out there, and I know a few, who stay home with their kids and love it.  I have to wonder if they ever lose their shit on their kids, and if they do, how do they keep going?!

I was thinking today about the few times (okay, there’s been more than just a few) I’ve lost my shit on my 3.5 year old toddler.  There was that time that she asked for milk, then freaked out when I gave it to her.  “No! Mommy, I want juice!”  “But you asked for milk.”  “I want juice!!!”  Cue her falling to the floor, full-on freak out.  So, I get her the juice (watered down, of course).  “Here you go, here’s your juice.”  Even more screaming and crying ensues.  “What’s the matter now?”  “I wanted MILK!”

WTF?!  Am I going crazy?! I would raise my voice, yelling above the screaming, asking her what she wanted to drink.  She would be so inconsolable that I would try to lift her up off the floor only to be presented with a completely limp child with no skeletal structure.  So, I’d drop her (gently) back on the floor and the screaming would continue.  I then tried to reason with her, but that also proved to be futile. Finally,  I’d let her have her freak out while I calmly walked away and poured myself a beer. It takes the pain away.   The first few times it backfired and the tantrum would escalate, but finally, she clued in, calmed down and approached me all quiet and sullen.  “Do you want milk or juice?” I would ask.  She’s look up at me with puppy dog eyes, “Milk”.  “So why did you say you wanted juice?”  She shrugs her shoulders.  She has no clue.  Right.  In her eyes, I’m her slave.  She asks for something, I get it.  So she tests to see if I’ll get her something else.  Who is training who here?

Is there any parent out there who doesn’t lose their shit with their kid?  Cuz, if there is, you better start commenting and telling me your secrets!