Tag Archives: Mad skills

Other things that happened this week…

This could be 'What's new' in my life. Should I buy it?

I slept poorly.

Edward slept poorly. But he is a vampire, so no-one should be surprised by that at all.

V also slept poorly. And we slept with V periodically and poorly as well.

Chewie slept well. Bastard.

I bought pants on sale at Target. Not for me, for V. The wee man isn’t a ‘wee’ man anymore.

3T is what we are hitting up over here. Isn’t that scary? It is for me. Since I still think he is 9 months old and teeny tiny. Isn’t that scary? It scared me. Just picking up the pants… geez. But I refuse to spend money on things that won’t fit him in a few months. It’s against my nature as a Canadian.

I fed my child broccoli and he liked it.

We bought a painting for our living-room. After visiting a friend’s house (Roys, you know who you are) Edward and I realized that hanging things on the wall was not a bad thing. And possibly since we have been living here for almost a year, finding things to put on the wall would be a good idea.

All we have to do now is hang it.

My Granny in Canada entered a nursing home. *sigh*

It’s genetic (dementia) and all of us family ladies joke about how it’s going to be us one day. And it’s true. But it still makes me sad. Happily she is in an amazing new home and really settling in well. Nothing like those scary ‘facilities’ down South. And after talking with one on the phone today, I couldn’t wait to call my Mum after work and relate some of the frustrating details of their extremely poor nursing staff.

Yikes! Every-time I have to communicate with one, I shudder to think of other families ‘special people’ in places like that.

Granny is adjusting well. Please send blessings and gentle thoughts in the general West Coast direction.

In other news, V has learned how to lie. Poorly.

Clearly he gets this from me as I can only lie to people over the phone. At work. Edward, on the other hand, can lie through his teeth.

The most recent lie is also the funniest.

V trots up to Daddy and proclaims: “No Poopoos!” and then trots away, while stink-lines emanate from the general area of his pants slash buttocks area.

Worst. Lie. Ever.

Followed by the other worst lie ever.

That involves V breaking something at Pop-Pop’s house, turning and pointing at one of the dogs and shouting either “Bai-ya” (Bailey) or “Soccer!” (Scarlet) and literally finger-pointing the blame in their direction.

Ha! It is rather funny. Such a naughty boy. Oh, I have so many stories to share regarding smacked bottoms and attempted time-outs, but I shall save those for a later date.

Tomorrow is ‘National Night-Out’ and The whole family is attending our local YMCA’s celebration.

I am so excited. I literally haven’t been able to wait ’til we could attend things like this and have V participate. With us.

We will be taking the camera, and since august is my “I will blog more often’ month, you shall all share in the pleasure of V running like a crazy animal. Maybe we’ll catch a few streaky shots of him?

Anyways, please forgive my poor posting this last month.

xoxo to my peeps a.m.

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Tequila fail

Update: Vince has graduated to telling me that he’s going to pee in the bathtub and forbidding me to peek in the back of his diaper. Super.

Apparently July is the month of lazy blogging. Sorry all, it’s just been one hell of a busy, dirty, sticky month.

Edward is still on Summer holiday, V is home with him and I am at work fulltime.

I feel left out.

Did you know that I have no idea how to do a tequila shot? I really thought I did but apparently, it’s true, I don’t. Actually, while I was preparing to do a shot, I realized that I had no idea what I was doing.

Thankfully I was around other skilled people, one of which literally reached across in the middle of my mini-monologue and swipe a lemon in the crux of my thumb and dusted it lightly with salt.

Yup. Tequila.

This is how a nerd does a tequila shot.

First, chew on lemon. Then, drink tequila. Finally? Lick salt. And finally finally? Drink rest of tequila.

Lord. Who am I? A 17 year old? I honestly can’t remember the last time I did a shot. And clearly neither did my mouth. Since it was the one that chose that lemon first.

Regardless, that Patron went down nicely. And the rest of that afternoon went down just as smoothly. Thanks Roys for your hospitality. And tequila. And tacos.

That blissful evening was followed by one of the exact opposite.

Screaming, puking, crying and endless cries of “Mummy too. MUMMY TOO! TOOOOOO!!”

I went to bed at about 8:30, post dinner (me) and post-puke (him). There was nothing that we could do that could make it right. Nothing at all. And certainly not his own bed, all by himself that is. As soon as I laid him down in our bed, he went to sleep. And as soon as I tried to move him somewhere else, he woke up and sobbed until I put him back.

Brutal. I mean I say that, but it really was. It wasn’t just that one time, it was multiple times. So much sobbing and crying and just general snotty noses and ickiness.

We were exhausted, still are actually.

And so? On that note, we are going to bed.

xoxoxo a.m.

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Trouble

Update: Currently the only potty training going on over here is the fact that V and his ‘big boy pants’ are bff’s. Hallelujah! Minor win for Mummy!

As I listen to V cry off and on this evening, I realize we are in a huge pickle.

And well, since I am a huge sucker and he is now snoozing next to me on the sofa downstairs, I would say we have some issues. And they are all sleep related. And I have no idea what to do about it.

We have had so many amazing plans. They have all failed. And in fact? Things have gotten worse.

And worse at a steady rate. And I am sharing my parenting fail with you why? Because I love sharing.

Somehow the ‘I sleep in my own bed by myself’ apparently got old and tired for someone. He has retaliated by waking up in the middle, crying and working himself up into such a state that he has actually thrown up a little. And we have responded by giving in and letting him sleep with us.

And literally the minute we offer this as an option, all fussing stops. Instantly. And during the middle of the night, when one is half asleep, this does seem like a good idea.

And I guess this has developed into an unfortunate pattern and it took us a while to really realize that it was a pattern. And trying to correct the issue is a bitch.

We’ve been trying for about a week now and not much has changed. The only positive step is that I am now ‘allowed’ to sit in the chair in his room, instead of lying next to him in his bed.

And this is a huge step. And I bring my book and read until he is asleep. But this too is slowly failing as V stays awake later and later, and the light in his room grows dimmer and dimmer and I grow sleepier and sleepier. And I struggle to read in the dim light, gradually give up and then sit half asleep in the chair in the corner of the room. And then as I grow sleepier, I crawl into bed with him to the sounds of “Mummy too, Mummy too…”.

Dude.

2 weeks ago, we had a particularly bad weekend. It literally was a no-sleep night every single night. By the end of the 4th of July long weekend, I was happy to go back to work as that would bring some sort of routine back to V’s life. Plus I got to sleep until 6 am and that was a total luxurious snooze compared to the 3 days previous.

Last weekend, we were at a Disney Resort. V and I slept together for 2 nights and it was the best sleep I have ever had in my whole life. V and I woke up those 2 mornings all snuggled up, our hair all entangled. I couldn’t remember the last time I had slept that well. It made me sad when we checked out and headed home. I knew that my Sunday night sleep was not going to be as great as that Saturday night.

This last week, we have tried to keep him in his bed. So when he woke up every night this week screaming for us to the point of almost puking? M went and got him and slept on his bedroom floor. This worked really well for several night except M now has a sore back, V is still crying every night and then there was that one night when we didn’t hear him we were so tired. I woke up at 6 am with a Little man next to me.

It was the best night of sleep I have had all week.

So we are now thinking about things like:

A) Is it so bad that he sleeps with us from time to time?

B) If we keep letting it happen, will we be totally screwed?

C) Will this mean we will never sleep alone until V is 10?

D) Can we somehow make it work for only the weekends?

I feel like I am slowly reaching the realm of ‘I don’t care’. And the other realm of ‘Why am I fighting this?’.

Is it ok to give in? Will you judge me if V sleeps with us as he so clearly wants to? Is he having night-terrors? Is he scared of the dark? If I put another night-light in his room, will he climb up his dresser and play with it? Like he did this morning when M found him standing on his changing table?

Will I find him crushed by furniture in the morning? Do I even dare take that route?

There are a lot of ‘ifs’ and ‘will I’ and ‘Is he’ thoughts circling my head.

The path we are contemplating is tricky. The road uneven. The distance? Unknown.

M and I are about to take a journey. Maybe.

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Big girl panties

Tonight I was the biggest big girl of all the big girls.

I took my son to the pool by myself…High five for Mummy!

M’s been working these last 2 nights and this was something we would usually do as a family. Last night I chickened out. But last night I did make V wear training pants to bed (which happily resulted in a break of the wet-bed syndrome from the last few nights). So while I chickened out on the pool front, I totally had a parenting win on the training pants front.

Tonight I pulled up those big girl panties, sucked it up and put on my bikini and hit up the YMCA with V. Alone. ALONE. Did I mention the alone part?

So alone.

And so into the pool we went, accompanied by an ear-piercing scream. I literally had 2 more holes in my ear-lobe post-entrance.

And then? Things were all fine. We kicked and paddled around for a few minutes and then headed over to the wading pool. It comes up to the middle of V’s chest and has a huge waterfall umbrella thing that you can duck under right in the middle of the pool. It’s maybe 10 feet or so in diameter and the water is a wee bit ripply. V is both fascinated and appalled by it.

Today he started off fascinated. We waded all around and then I went under the fountain and stood in it’s ‘shade’.  And then V walked in all by himself. This in itself was a huge high-five. And then he went out and did another lap of the wading pool. And with each successive lap he got lower and lower in the water. Until he was frog marching around and shouting “Mummy too Mummy too!!!!!”.

I did not join in the frog marching in 18 inches of water.

Several times during this ‘marching’ he sort of tried to swim.

I know!! He’s freakin’ fearless!I guess it’s fair to say that he continued fearless and was not appalled at all.

And during those times? Yes Fran, I was right behind him. And I only made eye contact with the Life Guard a million and one times. Apparently we were the hot spot attraction of the pool this evening.

We just finished 2 weeks of lessons at the Y. And I feel like he needs to go back immediately and get right into those lessons where they force your child to learn how to float and kick and paddle. Because literally he pushed us both away when we are swimming with him.

I believe that he really thinks he can just kick lightly and propel himself all over the pool. It’s frightening to watch. And I should know as I have watched it numerous times.

This little independent 2 year old is serious. Serious about doing everything by himself.

It’s enough to give one a heart attack every freakin’ day of the week.

See what I mean about those big girl panties? Mine were totally pulled up to my waist… and my stubborn lip was stuck out and maybe quivering a little bit.

I watched him voluntarily put his face under water and try to ‘swim’ so many times that what started off as “Good job Sweet pea!” ended up as “Oh. You’re doing that again?”.

Great. Just great, I thought calmly while V ‘swam’ again for the billionth time.

M and I are so having a chat tomorrow about more swimming lessons…

Before Little Man drives himself to the pool and takes a dip.

Sanity please!

xoxo a.m.

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Smack-down

Update: Currently there has been no pee or poo on the potty. And also there is an extreme lack of interest in the potty, ‘big boy pants’ training pants and basically everything to do with potty training.

Now that I’ve got that out of the way, on to more interesting things.

If it isn’t about poo, then you know some other sort of minor disaster is happening over here. It’s all chaos all the time. ALL the time.

We are having a bout of hitting, screaming and ‘MOVE’ happening over here.

First it starts with screaming. The screaming it peppered with whatever the problem is. For example:

“No! No Mickey Mouse! NO!” (2 seconds later, ‘Yay Hot Dog!”)

“No! NO milk! Juice!” (and then 2 seconds later… ‘Milk ok, no juice’~ what the hell?)

“NOOOOO! No Woody shorts! No! No Buzz!!’ (and then, again, 2 seconds later ‘Woody!!! Buzz!! Yay Woody shorts! Yay!’)

Ack. I could go on and on. It’s total bi-partisan over here. Makes my brain hurt.

These extremely frequent outbursts are combined with hitting and biting. WTF.

And our response? Time out.

Yup. Timeout as long as we can make him stay there. Followed by saying “I’m Sorry” and a hug. And then we say “No hitting, no biting” etc, whatever the crimes are…

Mostly though, it’s been those two.

It’s been those ‘two’ repeatedly. Dammit.

He gets mad. And then he bites whatever it is that he is mad at: Suitcase, Dinosaur, spoon, bowl, chair, Mummy, Mummy, Mummy, his own foot, the baby gate etc etc. And after he bites it? He hits it.

Mummy, the dog, that jasmine plant out back that threatened his tricycle, the T.V., the door, the baby gate etc.

Time out.

Time the freak out.

Lord have mercy. Will we ever survive these twos?

And as I am now reporting post-Monday? The answer might be no.

I might not survive, but the ‘Mummy-Monster’ certainly will. That’s my alternate persona’s name (and apparently several other Mothers that I know very well’s name too [ps: that grammar is crappy])

She growls out of me from to time. And those times seem to be happening a little more frequently.

Sentences like “MOVE!”, which, in retrospect, isn’t a sentence, but when said with force repeatedly and combined with sharp and violent pushes (violent for a 2 year old) can make one crazy.

And other sentences like: “No! Noooooooo!” combined with violent movements and the breaking of baby gates. Make you wonder what kind of crazy Olympian I gave birth to.

And then other things like: “No!!!!!!” and “Nooooooooo!” and “Mummy, No! Nooooo!” plus smack smack smack…(plus sound effects)

Mummy-Monster is one intolerant beast. Sharp looks, smack-downs and all that shizzle. Mummy-monster is one tough bitch.

Yup. Better look out, What ever tolerance I might have had for you drivers, walkers, cyclists, strollers etc is now at it’s limit.

So ya, suck it.

With love… a.m.

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Panties

Do you even want to read more about this? Since it’s all we are living and breathing over here, too bad. You have too. Well, I mean, I am going to write about it and hopefully you will honour my blog with your presence?

Last night was another disaster sleep-wise. It was 3:30 this time that we woke up to “Mummy! Muuuuuuummmy! Daddy! Daddy too, Daddy tooooooo!”

And so Daddy went and got the wee man who had an annoying amount of energy. We got all cosy in bed, all snuggled up and then? There was an announcement.

“WET”.

And wet he was. And very very wet. And why? Well some smart person had put him to bed in training pants that clearly were not designed for the amount of pee that comes out of my child. And also they are designed to let them feel the wet. So they can acknowledge the wet and vocalize it.

I think I didn’t realize the scope of the potty training. It’s not just about the potty. And the pee.

One needs to understand the potty training pants. And I guess there is also the option of not understanding the pants and letting things ‘hang loose’ and be prepared to deal with the consequences. But since it’s early days, to be honest I am not sure if either of us are ready for that. We need to be eased in. As eased in as we can.

So we have a ton of paraphernalia.

We have wipes for the potty. We have a new potty seat (that I injured myself on while using a pair of scissors as a screwdriver last night to make adjustments so it would fit the toilet). ..(ps: I have a Toy Story band-aid on my finger right now).

We have a huge assortment of ‘Big boy pants’.

Ones with Diego. Ones with Woody and Buzz. And then some others with Woody and Buzz.

And some cloth briefs to go over those if need be.

Last nights debacle involved non-night time potty training pants. Plus diaper rash. So in the middle of the early morning, I changed his pants. Dude.

Apparently I am a push-over as V demanded ‘big boy pants’ and I complied. However, he will let Daddy put a diaper on him. Jaime is a push-over when it comes to her son. Thank god we are not famous or someone would for sure kidnap him and demand a huge hostage amount (#pushover).

Anyways. I went on my lunch break and got some ‘night-time strength’ pull-ups.

I was apparently doing things totally out of step. I should have bought them all in one fell swoop. I think I was just overwhelmed. And post-diaper-a-thon, I feel like there needs to be some clues for us clueless parents. Those first steps to training are hard ones. It feels like starting over. Right over. Like suddenly you are on 2 1/2 hour sleep intervals.

And this time? It confuses both of you, as they are old enough to be confused too.

Ok, so tonight? V is wearing a gorgeous pair of night-time pull-ups, or ‘Big boy pants’ as we refer to them (since I have accidentally called them ‘panties’ about a million times. And have gotten a million dirty looks from the Big M everytime I slip up).

And I confess that I had this actual conversation:

“I bought V Big Boy panties!!”

“Jame, um, they are not called that.”

And then we both drew a blank. I don’t think I have ever actually said the word ‘briefs’ in my life.And then M choked out “Briefs, call them briefs”.

I looked at him like he was a crazy person. Oh, wait. He is.

Briefs, not panties. Note to self…

xoxo a.m.

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Queen Mother

We left off yesterday as V was handing me a diaper full of a giant poo that he had just created. Such a thoughtful little boy.

And as I drove off to work after passing it on to M, all I could think about was urine, feces and pants full of both.

Oh, and then pleasant things like how V is a big boy now and how I GUESS I (we) need to make the move to the big boy pants. And this was a tough one! How to you know when they are ready for no more diapers and just training pants?

I guess when they hand the diaper to you, that’s a good sign. And so it was. Now our house is full of Toy Story 3 potty paraphernalia. And to be honest? It is all rather exhausting. Especially since we are on uncertain, shakey ground in terms of potty experience.

Let’s face it. All we have had is one big poo in the potty. And then 2 removed diapers. Oh, and then a refusal to be diapered yesterday and a firm vocalization to wear ‘Diego’ (that’s who is on the training pants). Not that he knows who Diego is. Since we never watch that show. Somehow he just knows. It’s like osmosis or something..

But that’s not much to go on. And so I am making it all up (and backing it up with things my Joa and my Shannon have told me). Those girls know where it’s at.

Tonight we were extremely excited about going potty and taking a bath. At least until I took off his diaper and saw the WORST diaper rash EVER.

Oh great.

And so bath? Not so much. I left the experience drenched. It was like I had been on a water ride at one of the parks.

And diaper? No. Training pants? Also no. Regardless, I Desitined that butt down and pulled one up. Red painful-looking bum? Check!!

Today there was no diapers removed and handed to a parent. Nothing was removed at all actually. In fact, it was just a normal awful day with a two year old. He woke up at 2:30 and wouldn’t go back to sleep. And he just wanted Mummy and Daddy’s bed. And then just wanted to make pig noises in our bed. Not sleep at all. That would have been logical.

So he thrashed and we slept lightly. He woke up and so did we. He made pig noises and we groaned. He talked to Chewie and we stuck our fingers in our ears. He said ‘Mummy snuggles  and Mummy snuggled him within an inch of his life. And then?

Mummy said, “Daddy. Wake up. I have to go to work in 3 hours and I need some sleep”.

Daddy, “Alright Vincent, mummy’s kicking us out, lets go sleep in the little bed.”

Vincent, “Little bed ok.”

And then Mummy slept. And then Mummy woke up at 6 am and went running. This was quite important. Oh yeah… and then Mummy was tired all day long because of a fractured night.

But would you like to see what always makes it better? And this always does. Seriously.

Having ones small child throw oneself at you while shouting ‘MUMMY! Mummy Mum. Mummy! Mum. Mummy’. And all of this while surprising him at a restaurant this evening.

I felt like I was Queen of the Universe.

Love you Vincent…

xoxo

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Poop

This morning I got the best indication that potty training is a lot closer than I really thought.

I am so on the potty train and have been for the last few months. I’ve read all those things about how hard it is to potty train boys and am feeling pretty determined that I am not going to fall into that trap/cycle/pattern. Or whatever. Dammit! I WILL train this child!

So a while ago we got a little potty seat for the toilet. And this was quite exciting for a while. V sat on it, he got a treat and we clapped our hands.

And nothing happened. Which was to be expected. I just wanted him comfortable with the whole idea of it.

And then there was the miraculous poop. I redoubled my efforts after that holy event. And nothing happened. There wasn’t even a piddle in the potty.

And so we let the potty slide for a while.

And recently he’s become a little more interested in it. So we are sitting on the potty again. Counting to 10 and getting treats. Mummy goes potty. So does Daddy and Chewie.

V says exciting things to me like “Poo-poo poshy” and I whisk him off to the throne. Where nothing happens. In fact everything seems to happen the second we get off of the potty. I even tried, last week this was, having him sit on the potty while I slowly poured some water in the bathtub, thinking that would move things along.

All it did was made me have to go to the bathroom. And then when I plunked V in the tub after potty-time, he immediately peed in the tub. ARGH!

So over this last weekend, when V learned how to undo his diaper… well, lets just say that meant things were on the move.

And all M had to say about this was “Jame, I wish you hadn’t bought those cheap diapers.”

Well, excuse me for being more environmentally conscious and choosing to hit up the 7th Generation brand instead. Not cheap. But better. But maybe this purchase will bring on the training?

So this morning, while I was running around the house getting things sorted out for this morning, I heard a velcro-like rip and turned around to find V with a naked bum.

Holding his diaper in his hands. He toddled over to me and handed it carefully over. Oh look!! it was full of poo!!

How amazing! What a nice present! “M!! V has another present for you honey!” And he actually came downstairs, and then I handed him some poo. And then we laughed. And then I looked over at V who had this rather worried/scared look on his face.

I just felt awful. “Aw, honey, it’s ok!! Next time you have to go poo-poo you tell Daddy and you can go poo-poo on the potty!!” He perked up immediately.

Update 9:34 pm, so far there has been no poo-poo on the potty as of yet. I’ll keep you posted…

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Well, this is embarressing…

We all know you would rather read about the vomit, poop and general embarrassment then, say, me. I like to sneak in a ‘high-five Jaime’ post every once in a while, and it always makes me laugh because no-one reads it. But write about poop or vomit?? Hits a-million. Ha!! I know, I know… just put up with me. Sometimes I need a little self-indulgence…

Anyways, switching to bodily fluids and such…

V has developed several new skillz (with a ‘z’ ’cause they’re totally mad skillz). One of which I have only heard about but have not yet witnessed. And it scares me a little.

Sometime during the middle of last week, I came home, went upstairs and discovered that V’s bedroom door had a child-proof knob-thingy on the inside of his room. I asked M about this new addition and he turned to me with a total dead-pan face and said:

“Yes. He opened his door. It is all over. FOR EVER.”

I had thought it was over when he climbed out of his crib. And previously when he started walking. And then just before that when he started crawling. You see where I am going with this? This is the latest incarnation of “It’s over FOR EVER.”

So there’s that. And then there’s there this other thing that surprised me yesterday while V was cruising in his diaper around the living room.

I went upstairs for a minute and when I returned, V’s diaper was just hanging off of him. It usually sags in the butt a little anyways, but this time it was proper hanging off. As in one side of it had been undone. And his hand was making a move down the front of his diaper.

“Don’t touch!!” I shouted. And he listened. This is the only good thing that he’s learned from day-care. Not to touch ‘things’ and ‘bits’ or the ‘area’ while you are getting your diaper changed. And this has evolved into a whole ‘don’t touch’ approach for anything in the zone.

That hand shot out of that saggy diaper so damn fast.

“Mummy help”, he said. And so off we went upstairs to sort out this out.

And then it happened again later. And my imagination went crazy. Things rubbed on walls. Things like urine-soaked diapers and poo.. Stuff jammed in toilets. And things unexpectedly where it they shouldn’t be (ie: diaper on my pillow etc). I should accentuate that none of these things have happened. YET.

Ok, so he can (apparently) open doors and remove his own diaper.

And then this morning? Oh just you wait for this one…

This morning, on Father’s day of all days, he came over to me as I was standing in front of the dishwasher cutting up papaya and PUSHED me and shouted “Move!!!!”.

What? Since when do you push your mother that gave (painful) birth to you and cleans up your poop every day and tell her to move.

Well, I guess since you hit the two-year old mark.

I wish you could have seen my face. And heard me say “EXCUSE ME?!”

And then heard V say “Peeeeeeez.” Oh, well saying please right after a big ol’ push makes everything all better.

Didn’t you know that?

Well, now you do…  xoxo a.m.

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The Game Plan

After about a month of the big boy bed, a month of crying and a month of feeling very emotional, we are revising the bedtime plan.

Not that we planned this or anything, it was just something that I did last night that worked so well I couldn’t even believe it. So I did it again this evening and it worked even better.

Essentially I have given in to the extremely sad cries that were leaking through his bedroom door and into the hallway over to where I stand every night. I have also given in to the clicking of the door knob as he tries to open his bedroom door and find Mummy. Always Mummy, only Mummy all the time.

There I am, every night, in the corner biting my lip. Listening to those noises and saying to myself (in my head) that this will all pass, it will all get better, V will stop fighting and eventually just go to bed. But unfortunately, things have remained the same. I mean, they certainly haven’t gotten worse, but it is not like they have been improving either.

It’s giving in, but in such a nice way.

“Mummy too?”, he says, patting his little pillow.

“Yes, Mummy too”, I respond, climbing onto his little twin bed and sharing that football and soccer ball covered pillow. He hands me his favorite blanket, which I tuck around him and then I lie down with him.

We listen to lullabys.

I watch his face, those eyes flickering here and there around the room. Sometimes they land on me and he smiles…

Eventually they close and I stay there for a little while longer.

I haven’t watched him fall asleep since he was a little, itty bitty baby. So while I watch him do that, it makes me think about him 2 years ago, so little and so hungry. And now, a monsterously huge little boy who eats like a beast, plays so hard you’d think it was an Olympic sport and sleeps like a brick. When you can convince him to fall asleep, I mean.

So I convince him by saying “Mummy too”, lying down next to him, stroking his back… and at the same time, I am having the time of my freakin’ life!! An actual cuddle with my boo, one he isn’t even fighting!! Bliss!! Utter bliss!

And really, when you really think about it? Why would I ever be in any hurry to leave? What do I have to do that is so darn important that I can’t sit with my child and comfort him while he tries to fall asleep?

Not a damn thing. Best idea I have ever had in years. YEARS!

So for the last two nights, I have not bitten my lip or hovered in any hallways. OR tried to hold back tears OR felt at all guilty at all.

So far, it sounds like this is a total win.

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