Ashes, Ashes We All Fall Down

      My children did not sleep through the night until they were two. Yes you read that right. This is for all those mothers and fathers out there who hear my pain, share in my blood shot eyes, and ingest caffeine  to such degree that we probably need some sort of group therapy. Now, having said that, for my two oldest children, two was the magic number. Once they hit it we were in a slumber land so divine it reveled images of dancing sugarplums and fairy dust. A book or two, a snuggle, perhaps a sip of milk and they were golden. All was good in our land of dreams. Then came my baby girl and her entrance to the world of 2.
      This week has been a transition week with all of us returning to work and daycare. I get that it is hard and out of our normal summer routine.  I get that we are having to get up earlier and leave the house while our eyes are still adjusting to the light much like small creatures that live underground. I get that their little bodies are more tired with all the stimulation of new experiences. This is all grand!  What is not so grand is what happened last night in the bedtime torture session, I mean routine, that happened at our house.
      2 has been recently honing her stalling techniques in terms of her pre-bedtime show. I lovingly compare it to the Olympic opening ceremonies. Just when you think you know what is coming next, or that it is winding down, BAM! Wrong-o my friend. The second, third, and perhaps fourth or fifth overture is just beginning. Last night was no exception.
      After a long week back to work, a dear unmarried and child-free friend who shall remain nameless, came over to visit and watch a movie. She arrived prior to the bedtime madness at approximately 6:30.  We were visiting outside on the lovely evening that we were blessed with after so many months of a scorcher summer. 2 was playing with various outside toys when she requested the use of the hose. I kindly told her no, that we were not going to be getting wet tonight. WELL! That sent her into such a tizzy that she put herself on the concrete patio, kicked her feet and screamed her desire to use WATER!!!!
      At this time I realized that my neighbors might not want to spend their evenings enjoying this fine weather to the din of such a lively chorus. At 6:45 I decided to get 2 ready for an early bedtime of 7ish. By the time jammies, books, sips, and pottying were complete it would probably be close to 7:30. An early bedtime was surely what her little body was needing with all the tears and hubbub. Let's just say that her clock calculations and mine were not in the same time zone.
      What ensued upon entering the house was nothing short of pure, unedited, what I lovingly have entitled MELTDOWN IN THE MIDWEST!  The kicking, screaming, ear piercing, shrill, glass breaking quality octaves that echoed from 2 were quite amazing. I am sure my friend thought that either I was the world's worst mother, or that there was something completely wrong with my child. I also think that perhaps tonight's entertainment might make them rethink EVER having children of their own.
       Once the bedtime clock started ticking it was officially 7:30, after I got the cutest pink jammies on my tot, albeit, wrestling and having to redress her numerous time because even at only 2 she is quite strong for such a small thing. All the while screaming at the TOP OF HER LUNGS! This was pre book, sip, or pottying by the way. In case you were keeping track. Once she was in her bed, without a book because of naughty behavior, the opening ceremonies began. They were in this order:

• having to go potty, of which nothing materialized
• having a tummy ache and needing something to eat
• needing "a rubberband" or what we would call a band-aid
• a sweet request to be covered up
• having to go potty again, which also resulted in nothing
• a second request to be covered up
• crying because she was afraid of the dark, in which a hall nightlight was turned on, in addition to the one directly next to her bed that is ALWAYS on. 
• a request for medicine because her tummy hurt, of which an eye dropper of honey was administered and did the trick. 
• a request for one "cutie patootie" who up until last night did not exist, but was somewhere in her room hiding. I convinced her that Cutie Patootie was probably hiding in her room because she was making so much noise and he or she was tired. She accepted this openly and snuggled back in her bed.
• a third request to be covered up
• a request for something to eat of which request was flatly denied since a hearty dinner and bowl of ice cream had been administered earlier.

Then SILENCE.  

     

     I thought that we were golden. It was now 'Go time' for the movie!  Even after all the craziness my friend had not fled the premises. My little cherub had finally fallen into slumber after all the craziness and stimulation of the day.  I thought I heard a small 'Click' somewhere in the distance, but since the boy were enjoying their Friday night movie I thought it must have been just from their movie. I should have known better. 

     After about fifteen minutes of the movie. I needed a potty break. Upon walking down the hall I spotted the bedroom door of 2 was closed. However, light was seeping through the crack under said door. I knew that the games were still in play. And the games being played now were silent games, which is usually the most stealthy of all toddler games. Ones in which require more than retucking and honey. 

     Upon turning the door, I noticed that the door was locked. Yes, she has realized how to lock doors lately. This was not good. This meant that at 2, she had premeditated to do something sneaky. Something that she KNEW she should not be doing. 

     I kindly asked her to unlock the door at which point she did. When I opened the door, I saw a short in stature child that was covered in a tannish goopy cream, that was later determine to be Boudreaux's Butt Paste. There was not an inch of her that wasn't creamy. It was in her hair, her eyebrows, on her cute cherry covered jammies, between her toes and fingers and doning her lovely cheeks. As I scanned the room I noticed that her kitchen, and potty seat had also received a nice healthy slathering. 

     Needless to say, a washing of hair followed as well as a wipe down of 2's kitchen. At this point I think she realized that she was in BIG trouble. She was quiet. The crying ceased. As I tucked her in bed for the umpteenth time, her pitiful voice stated, "Mommy, I a good friend. I a good friend."  She hugged me and snuggled into the crook of my neck repeating, "I a good friend. I sorry Mommy. I a good friend."

      This was quite simply the sweetest time of the night. It was finished. The games were over. The ceremony complete. She was done. She had given up. She resolved to sleep. I only wish that the earlier festivities could have been slightly less creative. But then again, if they were I wouldn't have had any exciting things to write about. For the record, the clock officially read 9:15 p.m. Central Standard Time.  

--K