Time to Retrain Mama

When to stop caving in, just because a verbal request was made?

It was a tough night last night. The hubby is away at camp with our 6th grader for the week, and while I know he has his hands full with 9 6th grade boys, after last night, I would gladly switch places.

Bedtime routine is important to C. He likes to be warned well in advance that bedtime is approaching. He still doesn't understand the concept of time, so minutes, hours, days have little meaning, but the ritual of constant reminders makes it easier for all of us, when the time comes to head to his bedroom and read his book, tuck him in, and close the gate.

Last night, as I was issuing his many warnings, C kept traveling from the playroom to his bedroom, from the living room to his bedroom, and from his bedroom back to the playroom. I was cleaning up dishes from dinner, and knew that he was still playing with all his "friends", but wasn't aware of exactly what he was doing.

When I finally issued the last warning, and we walked hand in hand upstairs to his room, I found a full scene straight from both Toy Story and Monsters U waiting for us. I reminded C that our toys also needed to get sleep and that we needed to pick them up and put them "night-night". C became angry and frustrated, and threw his toys out of his room into the hallway. I gratefully took this opportunity to place them back in their respective bins, walked back to C's room, and closed the gate. I grabbed the book he had chosen, but he was aware. He knew that I put his toys away. He immediately began pleading, "Please, pretty, pretty please, can I have my toys back?".

It is heartbreaking. We work so hard to get our children to communicate, so when they do, we immediately comply with their request. Especially when verbalization is new, and it feels appropriate to give what has been asked for verbally as a reward. We fought for so long to understand C's needs and wants, and were happy to give what was asked for, it can be as rewarding for us, as it is C. Cookies for breakfast? Well you used the word cookie, said please, and are so proud that you were able to ask, how could I say no. You want to watch Toy Story for the third time in a row? Well you brought the movie to me and asked to watch it, how could I say no. I have trained my child to get what he wants, if he makes a verbal request. Now, I have to retrain my child, and hope that he understands what a reasonable request is, and can understand that it is my job to set limitations. That is a tall order.

I know C understands much more than he can communicate. I know that I don't acknowledge his level of comprehension, because I just simply don't know when he understands, but is choosing to ignore, or what he doesn't understand and therefore ignores. In addition, he is a master manipulator (said in the most loving way, you have to understand and comprehend, in order to manipulate a situation or person, so I am somewhat grateful for this acquired skill). His sweet voice, his long eyelashes, his innocent pleads, make it so difficult to say "no". Not only do I have to retrain C, but I need to retrain myself, his daddy, and his siblings. Every meltdown can't result in him getting what he wants. He needs to have expectations similar to his brothers, placed on him. We can't encourage the less than desirable behavior because we want the crocodile tears to stop. We can't let his sweet plead, "PRETTY, PRETTY, PRETTY PLEASE" change our decision.

Last night was a hard lesson learned by both mama and boy. I had to walk away, let him cry it out, and cry he did. He screamed, he stomped his feet, he banged on the gate. Tears flowed freely, there were moments of sweet pleads, and moments of glass shattering screeches. Our neighbors, I am sure, could hear the chaos, and had thoughts of calling 911 or child services. The tears and cries lasted for about 15 minutes. I tell you, it felt like hours. At times I felt like crying right along with him, and there were times I found myself giggling at his version of compromise. And then there was silence. After O and I finished our book (despite the mayhem in the room next door) I peeked in C's room. He had swaddled himself in his comforter, and fallen to sleep. There were residual hiccups from his tantrum visible, as I watched the rise and fall of his chest, while he slept. 

Sometimes Routine is Overrated

Mama's Bedtime Battles

Every night C and I read the same book at bedtime, at the same time, while we sit in the same position on the bed. We have been doing this for about a year now, and every night our story gets a bit longer. It started with me reading to him, but as his vocabulary expanded, and he was able to retain the words, he began reading to me. It has been amazing to witness and quite the accomplishment. A few years ago he wasn't able to put words into meaningful phrases, and he grew to the point where he began to "read" to me on a nightly basis.

Fast forward to Monday night. We brushed our teeth, walked upstairs, turned the bathroom light on, walked into C's room, grabbed our book, took our places in bed, and began "Story Time". Monday night however was slightly different than our other nights. Suddenly the animals in our book began to have side stories of mostly jargon, some tangible words, and a lot of "and the... (insert animal)". While on a normal day I would have rejoiced, swung from the rafters in glee, Monday night I was not in the mood for extended story time. With each turn of the page, the one line sentence became a longer and still longer string of intangible/ jargon/ animal words.

Bear with me folks, there is a point...

As we sat and turned pages, and repeated words and phrases, and our 1/2 hour story time turned into 45 minutes, I found myself growing antsy. Suddenly out of no where, the phrase "I ain't got time for this" started to make it's way through my larynx and out of my mouth. Thankfully, my mama filter took charge and swallowed that hideous statement, and then I felt the regurgitation, I knew what was about to slip out and I quickly changed my statement to "Let's turn the page and see what happens next".

It was a hideous mommy moment. All I wanted to do was pour a large glass of wine, plop down on the couch and flip the channels back and forth between Bravo and E!.

Finally, we reached the end of the God Forsaken book, and C proudly proclaimed "And they lived happily ever after, The End". As I kissed my sweet boy goodnight, I felt the tension ease, the anxiety release, and I realized that I too, may be in need of a sensory break.

I was reminded by a very dear friend tonight, that we too are human. We too need time to decompress. Sometimes even the simplest of tasks seem insurmountable, and that is okay. As I write, C is watching Yo Gabba Gabba, and is happy. I am not doing one of the million things I have pinned to the board on Pinterest dedicated to C, I am focusing on me, with a glass of wine, and allowing myself to be okay with the break.

Tonight, I will cherish our bedtime routine, I will bask in the longer bedtime story. When I say "Good night, I love you", C will respond "Lub you" and when I say " Have a good night night", he will say "We will". Tonight I will be at peace, and it will only have a little to do with the fact that I was able to enjoy a glass of wine before bedtime tonight.