So guess what I did? We live in an apartment - the one above us is occupied and he shares his room with his brother...so I sat in his room and cajoled him to sleep...while he mocked me. MOCKED ME.
How I didn't completely lose my shit is beyond me, although I do remember consciously not looking at the clock until his eyes were closed and I was out of there because if I had done so I would have flipped out. The time for 3am shenanigans is college and I haven't been there for about a decade.
So then Saturday was a fog during which I spent a lot of time feeling guilty about not writing this review of Chapter 4: No-Drama Connection in Action....I have copious notes but they may as well have been written in swahili for all I could comprehend yesterday.
This was about all I could muster:
So that was yesterday. Last night everyone slept very well after watching Kentucky win and this morning I glanced over my notes again and then my kids...
What was on my mind from my notes: Response Flexibility:
"Response Flexibility helps you choose to be your to be your wisest self possible in a difficult moment with your child, so that connection can occur." pp. 102-3So instead of flipping out when they decided to play Vacuum Chicken (which is where I vacuum the carpet and they see who can run in front/jump over without actually hitting it...and then run and shriek and stand on tables) and then pull bedding off one bed and put it on the other so they could be snails, I did a bit of eye-rolling and texted my BFF: "OMG, my kids are such assholes. I mean, they're just being kids and I love them and whatever...but they're still being assholes."
Then all of the stuffed animals came out...joined by ALL of their bedding...
What I wanted to do:
What I did:
And then when they started to whine about cleaning up the mess (hours later)...I wanted to:
But what I did was remind them that I warned them this mess was theirs to clean up and then I passed them off to Steve, whose mood after his 64 mile ride earlier was as close to this as a non-medicated parent can get:
And now I'm throwing together a bunch of gifs to animate the point that even when you're in the middle of reading a book about how to discipline better, sometimes you just have to meet a deadline and taking/editing/posting images of your little assholes is the last thing you want to...you can still have learned something. At no point did I yell, I didn't slam a door, I didn't start lecturing and whining back....
But they're making dinner (Disheveled Josephs) and I'm going to do this (without the cigarette, obviously...)
Ok, also without the pearls...and the fabulous hair, makeup, wardrobe...and shit. Without the wine.
Is it bedtime yet?
PS - the other lesson to learn? Deadlines and small children mean that the other thing I'm about a decade away from is waiting until the last minute and churning out genius. No way would this post break a curve if I had to turn this in as an essay. I am clearly off my game.
(That's Charles Barkley. Watch Space Jam)