Bedtime Woes

bedtimestoryBedtime with the Squido is often a big pain in my ass.

I remember when she was little how much I loved bedtime. After we read a book I would tuck her in and sing her a song and she would go happily to sleep without complaint.

Now all I hear are complaints about bedtime from Squido, who just turned eight years old. Complaints, among other shenanigans. She’s also become a master at procrastinating the entire event by the normal things like asking for a glass of water after being tucked in, having to go to the bathroom again, having to blow her nose, and so on, and so forth.

Last night I had to lecture her for what felt like the millionth time about the fact that bedtime is bedtime! We do this “going to sleep” thing every single night of your life, it shouldn’t be a horrible shock to you that it’s time to go to bed at nine o’clock.

Today there was a new anti-bedtime event.

About five minutes after I tucked Squido in, she came running out of her bedroom and into my arms crying about having a nightmare.

“You were only in bed five minutes, that’s not even enough time to go to sleep, let alone have a nightmare,” I told her.

Of course, she insisted that she dreamed about an alien taking her toys.

Uh huh.

I love that my daughter is so creative, but I really wish the awesome stories wouldn’t come after bedtime.

And yes, I realize this is the second post in a row with “Bedtime” in the title, and that’s weird, and I’ll try not to do it again tomorrow.

 

Parenting Sucks Sometimes

The kiddo, my Squido, and I had an exceptionally bad day today.

It started to me waking up to a complete nightmare of a mess in the living room On the weekends I sleep in for an hour or two and let Squido watch TV or do whatever she wants, and usually she behaves! Today it was just chaos, toys and books everywhere, so the day started with a lecture about taking care of our own messes and things, and Squido had a really bad attitude about it.

Then, a little while later I noticed that the plug for my iPhone was missing from its usual outlet. Squido has been using my iPhone plug as a USB adapter for her Kindle, and without it she can’t charge her Kindle. I suppose I could charge it on my laptop like I do my phone every day, but there was a lesson there: take care of your shit.

She “lost” the plug. So I told her to look for it. Sounds simple, right? Try getting an eight year old to focus on looking for a little plastic square. She looked under like three things and pronounced it gone forever. So that turned into another lesson about taking care of our things, and I explained to Squido that since she lost the plug, she wouldn’t be able to charge or use her Kindle for a while, because I am definitely not going to rush out and buy another USB plug when there is a lesson to be learned here.

Well, Squido threw a fit. Totally freaked out and told me that I HAD to get her another plug because she HAS to use her Kindle, and I’m like “Bitch, please.”

I just don’t handle the epic bad attitude fits anymore. Thankfully they happen very few and far between these days, which I appreciate, but it makes these days seem harder somehow, too. I get panicky when Squido gets this way – she can be very argumentative and combative, and she gets into dark moods that it’s hard to pull her out of until she’s ready to come back on her own. Very frustrating.

So, I decide to step away from the situation and take a shower. I’m in the shower for about two minutes when I hear a crash and breaking glass.

“What the hell was that?” I screamed.

“I broke my lamp,” Squido wailed, sobbing, probably knowing she was in trouble.

I didn’t say anything. I did some deep breathing and took a long shower, thinking that the lamp she broke was the little glass mermaid night light that’s plugged into the corner of Squido’s room.

I was wrong.

It was her glass ceiling lamp, which she had broken because apparently she was throwing a ball around her bedroom. And obviously we have a no ball throwing in the house rule. I mean, come on.

Ugh. I don’t even want to go on anymore. It’s been a thoroughly shit day and I just am so glad that it’s past bedtime and I have some peace and quiet to myself and the wonderful opportunity to come to my blog and complain about how parenting really sucks sometimes, and kids can be really lame.

Don’t you agree?

I Am A Reluctant Mother

omegamomiconbigAlpha moms. You know the type. They are the ones who stay at home or work from home to be with their children, and yeah, they probably do all of those crunchy things like cloth diaper and make their own baby food before they start homeschooling and teaching their kids Japanese at the age of fourteen months. Because that’s all normal, right?

Yes, yes it is. It’s normal for some people. Parenting style, like personal fashion sense, is all a matter of opinion and choice. I don’t believe there is one right or wrong way to parent as long as methods aren’t abusive, but my goodness gracious moms of the world, give me a break.

I am an Omega Mom. Do you know what that is? Well, then we are in the same boat because I just made it up. I am the opposite of an Alpha Mom, is what I am trying to say. I am a reluctant mother.

You see, unlike so many women who are parents, I didn’t exactly want to be a mother. I found myself knocked up after a fling with a guy I barely knew when I was twenty-two years old, and though I considered all of my options, I just decided that I couldn’t go through with an abortion and putting the child up for adoption was something I thought I could handle even less than vacuuming out my uterus. So, I had my daughter, Squid. Reluctantly.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my little Squido and loved her from the minute she was born, but certainly there have been times in my life where I go so far as to wish I had made a different choice, as hard as that is to say, it’s the truth. And for the record, I am not saying it to make people angry, I am saying it to be honest and open up the door for anyone else to be honest if they need to be here. I know how hard it is to admit things that other people can take such easy offense to.

I don’t know what things used to be like, but I feel like it is so hard to be a mother these days, with the media and just so many people watching and judging ALL THE TIME. I feel like I can’t go to the supermarket with the Squid without getting the side-eye a few times from people who peek into my cart and see that I’m buying her not just Pop Tarts, but Lucky Charms, too! I can’t drop her off at school without worrying if I checked every inch of her to make sure her clothes and face are clean from breakfast. I worry that people are judging me when the Squid and I don’t show up to all the mommy & me events in town (because I just can’t bear being around some of those other moms) and for god’s sake, yes, sometimes all we both want is an entire Sunday in front of the television with no educational opportunities whatsoever.

You know what? My kid will live. And since I am not pouring every ounce of my own personal energy into making sure her days are jam packed with enriching educational activities and home cooked organic meals, I will live, too, and not go insane and end up strapped to a bed in our comfortable (and unfortunately familiar) local mental hospital.

How do you identify you parenting style? Are you an Alpha, an Omega, or somewhere in the middle of the road?