I was attempting to teach myself additional areas of Google Adsense when my youngest, C came down with his 23rd request for the evening. I am now writing out of fury and stress. It’s a Saturday night; I shouldn’t be writing out of fury and stress.
I have now dubbed the last hour in the day for C as “Diva Hour”. Suddenly his arms and legs are broken and everything is wrong. I of coarse turn into his personal servant making his 2nd, sometimes 3rd dinner and tending to him like he’s a baby. I really shouldn’t complain as he is light years ahead of his older brother with regards to independence. But my God, tonight sent me over the edge. I really thought I had nailed some alone time by allowing him to fall asleep in our bed with all the lights on. Normally he demands an adult to be upstairs with him so this was a compromise. I was wrong….completely wrong.
Here have been the complaints, demands and stall tactics, all within the past hour:
8:30- I don’t want to take a shower (again, my children have the same aversion to personal hygiene as Donald Trump has to his local Mexican restaurant).
8:35- “C, you comin’ to the shower?” I call out noticing he hasn’t come to our bathroom to shower. As usual, he saw something shiny. He announces he needed to fix his puzzle like this was just standard operating procedure and part of taking a shower. He comes out of his room and announces “I don’t have any shorts.” I responded in full blown whine, “just put on a pair of boxers. I don’t care if you go commando at this point.”
8:45- Mommy, will you make me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich? Full disclosure: I made a massive meal of fajitas with fresh peppers. Because the steak inside the fajitas was tough and not filet mignon, this was not up to his standards and he suffered through 4 bites.
9:15- He comes down and announces with his arms folded, “I’m still hungry and I need your tweezers because I have a splinter.” I was about to loose my shit. It is a 24 hour buffet around here and I’m the only cook. And the “splinter” was a micro-organism barely visible with the naked eye.
9:15-9:20- Splinter extracted.
9:22- He announces he has another splinter (same size). I was about to throw the blueberries I had just washed, in his direction as I just wanted him to GO TO BED!
9:22 He is almost at the stairs, ready to turn the corner when he turns around and asks “mommy, will you tuck me in”. Now people, you are going to have to believe me here, this is a stall tactic. Do not think I am the ass hole here. There is an underlying rule that if you have the privilege of falling asleep in mom and dad’s room while watching t.v., you forgo ALL tucking in rights.
“No C, not tonight. We are an hour past your bedtime. You need to get up there and focus on going to sleep.” I finally put my foot down, probably for his safety. I mean, throw me a bone here. Relentless.
So do your kids avoid bed like the plague? Why am I even asking this? It’s like human nature.