Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Why an observer might think I'm crazy

There are some days when my whole self just shuts down...mind and body.  Days like today, my willpower for parenting is just all used up after wrangling a spilling, crumb-mongering toddler through Starbucks, "fixing it better" the same kid's train every two seconds while trying to fold six loads of laundry, chasing that two-year old through a deli and across a parking lot while trying not lose drinks and sandwiches for three, and then baking in the summer sun playing "up the hill, down the hill" with said crazy little boy. (Yes, that game is played exactly how it sounds).

And then comes naptime, sweet naptime.  When I will finally get a break if I can only get the kid to lay still for the three seconds it would take for his exhaustion to overwhelm him into sleep.

But instead, he fights. He rolls. He drops his blanket. He drops his pillow. He climbs out of bed.  He turns from wild toddler to banshee who will not go to sleep.  And all I can do is pick him up, flailing and kicking, and place him back in his bed each time he gets out.  Every 2.5 seconds.  I didn't have it in me to scold or plead or bargain.  All I could do was hum a little tune softly to myself as I set him back in bed dozens - though it felt like thousands - of times.  Humming that little tune to keep my sanity.

Or perhaps I've already lost it?