Mindless Mom

So bedtime in my house is like a three ring circus.  It starts out well enough, everyone lines up to walk up the stairs together in their pajamas with their cups of water in hand.  Cute little “night nights” are exchanged.  Then once we cross the bedroom threshold and the reality of going to bed has set in, all hell breaks loose.  My eldest fakes an injury, my middle child suddenly “members” something she left downstairs and makes a mad dash to go back for it, and the youngest carefully observes her siblings behavior and quickly decides she’s not going down without a fight.   Her version of a fight usually involves huge puppy dog eyes that slowly, timed with perfection, increasingly fill with water until they overflow onto her pink cheeks and nose, followed up quickly with a blood curdling scream.  My favorite time is when the scream empties itself right inside my left eardrum.  It’s then that I usually begin the chant “I love my kids.  I love my kids.  I love my kids.”  Too bad that my ears are still ringing from the deaf-roaring sound so much that I can’t even hear my own pep talk. 

God forbid that the same persuasion technique be used on all three kids.  No, my children want to make sure I’m well-rounded enough to end up on Oprah later in life to discuss my authored book entitled “Teetering on the Edge of Prozac - Getting Three Kids Under Five to Bed before Midnight without Corporal Punishment”.  

The eldest requires 6 books to be read front to back.  Do not even think about skipping a word because it’s going to trigger a “re-start”.  The bus driver will be back at the front of the book telling you not to let the pigeon drive.  And after the six published books, he appreciates a made-up story that somewhere involves a “boy named Cade”, preferably science-fiction in nature.  Good thing I’m an expert in comedy and lectures (also referred to as moral-based three minute animal stories).  No need to worry though, I’ve created a world where robots really do have feelings and Transformers love their sisters.  Oh yeah, and Freddy the Frog is a huge hit when he smashes the flies with his tongue.  Those Mad Libs from my junior high days have really paid off.  Misplaced nouns, adjectives, and adverbs make for great storytelling.    

The middle child is a girl after my own heart.  She can be appeased with food and drinks.  And I don’t mean cocktail drinks.  Dangle a ripe strawberry or fill up her water glass………and you’re golden.   The “I love you mommy” flows out like a song.   Of course the terms of endearment are quickly followed by orders for breakfast the next morning and a list of all the things we can do during the upcoming weekend.  “Sure honey, I’ll make you cupcakes and pizza for breakfast after we go to the zoo before I go to work…….go to bed already.”

The baby of the bunch has sleep going to bed down pat.  She looks as if she’s praying to the gods for us to just stop talking and to get out of her face so she can go to bed.  I’m sure she’s cursing me in babytalk when I shut her bedroom door because she shares a room with her big sister who is still in there singing “I love pizza.  Zooo…..Zoooo…..amimals at the zoo.  We goin to do sumpin at the zoo………….cupcakes……………I love my mommy and muffins”.  I find irony in the fact that the kid who pierced my eardrum with her cry now has ringing ears of her own. 

Lights off and all the doors are shut…..one, two, three, breathe………  But not too deeply, because big sis is already calling for a refill on that water and boy wonder thinks he “may need an grape allergy pill because my eye really hurts and I’m tired of rubbing it” and screetch baby is crying for everyone to shut the hell up.

Oh look at the time……8:52pm…….there’s still lots of time before that book title doesn’t apply.