bookends of horror with little miracles in between

April 14, 2010 at 10:16 pm 2 comments

Before I even opened my eyes this morning I knew that the heathen monster that is currently our three-year old did not transform during the night. She had not returned to her usual sweet tender self. Oh no. In fact I knew that sleep wasn’t washing away the hairy-ness of yesterday even earlier because she continued to squeal and boss me around even while sleeping. She must have nursed eleven times, (NURSE! OTHER SIDE!!!!), and at one point deliriously ordered me to sit up because she was sure I was laying on top of something important. I protested and explained in vain, and then when I finally did sit up she then ordered: LAY DOWN MAMA!!!! I desperately grabbed bits of confused winks in between her ravings.

So I basically knew we were screwed.

And then, for no particular reason as far as I could tell, she snapped out of it. I kept watching her, not counting on the sweetness to maintain itself, and also a little creeped out by the schizophrenic nature of her mood swings. It was a miraculous shift for its suddenness and also its timing, for right when the screaming stopped Kris called. An early morning, lets-talk-about-something-heavy-in-a-girlfriend-to-girlfriend-kind-of-call. In other words the kind of call that kids never allow to happen, instead they always suddenly need something that requires your full attention, or choose just that moment to clobber a sibling. I held a satisfactory length and meaningful conversation without interruption. I told you there were miracles!

The second one occurred later in the afternoon. After noticing the girls were becoming absorbed in the stretching and poking of that weird stuff called Gak, or slime, (the stuff that is cold and snotty feeling), I made a mad dash for the bedroom and quickly changed into yoga clothes. Nobody noticed. I rolled out the mat… I even crossed in plain view of them. Nobody noticed. I finished a complete Ashtanga series and no one fought. No one climbed my legs. No one needed their butt wiped.

Miracles miracles miracles!

The photo is me resting afterward as the girls lovingly decorate my collar bones with little balls of Gak. Nothing ever felt better. And somehow these little slime balls gave them the idea of beauty parlor. So the magic continued. Still no fighting. Still no requests. Instead I sat on the couch sipping water and kombucha while those two gentle girls brushed my hair, added clips, washed my face, smoothed lavender face cream over my cheeks, spread lip balm over my lips and dabbed essential oils on my wrists.

If this was a stay-at-home mom’s poker game I’d spread this hand of yoga, beauty parlor, and refreshments out before me and snicker: Read ’em and weep ladies!

But alas, this isn’t a poker game, and it was me that was weeping soon afterward as the gremlin living in Echo reared its ugly head once more, screaming, kicking, and sobbing. She swung wildly, red-faced and mutant looking, from obvious sorrowful exhaustion to manic motor mouth glee. The rest of us tried to blend in with the furniture, hoping not to attract her attention.

She sleeps now. And I am a fool for typing about her instead of racing to catch some rest. But who knows, maybe my luck will hold out, maybe I’ll draw another winning hand and squeeze in a few unexpected miracles between the tourrettes-like outbursts.

If you want to stack your own deck here’s the recipe for slime.


Entry filed under: parenting principles. Tags: , , , , .

look out it’s official

2 Comments Add your own

  • 1. Jennifer  |  April 15, 2010 at 4:42 am

    Ugh. I am feeling your pain. My 20 month old is pulling the same kind of Jeckle-Hyde stuff. The sleep has been steadily getting worse over the last few weeks. At first it was that he would only sleep half the night in his bed, and then want to nurse once and crawl in bed with us. Then he only slept a few hours alone, then nursed once then slept with us. Then the sleeping with us became fitful tossing and turning. Then the “sleeping” became laying on my head or chest and occasionally punching me in the face. Then the nursing ramped up. Last night he wouldn’t sleep at all in his bed, laid on top of me and wanted to nurse every 2 hours. Now that’s not 11 times (because he will only ever stay “in bed” for 10 hours), and so I do bow to the wells of patience (and milk) that you must have to survive that. I really do. But I find myself getting so mad/frustrated during the night at this little being who has it out for me! But then during the day he can be so sweet and play independently long enough for me to go to the bathroom alone. Then when I come back to the room, he says, “miss you”. *melt* How do we get through what must be a “stage” of clingy toddler craziness? I have to keep reminding myself that it’s a stage. Here’s hoping for a miracle today for you!

  • 2. kris  |  April 15, 2010 at 9:32 pm

    bust a gut laughing at the “read em and weep, ladies”. thanks. (the whole serious? are you kidding me? total miracle indeed.)


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