Hell Night on the Eve of Hell Month

A friend of mine who blogs about his 3-year-old daughter daily (!) blogged last night about the battle of wills to get her to sleep. It must have been in the air, even though they live in North Dakota, because last night Brigid was in rare form at bedtime and put us through the rack. It was an odd night to begin with because Margaret and Patricia didn't have school the next morning so they didn't go to bed at their usual time. Jack was off (because the crappy company that owns the paper imposed mandatory time off without pay) and that threw off the schedule as well. So, Brigid was up later than usual, playing Disney Scene It and eating three bowls of popcorn. She wanted crackers and cheese. She wanted cookies. She wanted an apple. It went on and on. When I finally got her to go in for bed, she wouldn't sit still for a book even though she cried for me to read her one. She fussed and then asked for Daddy. I put her in bed and Jack came in and sat with her for nearly an hour before she asked for me. In the meantime, she asked for a drink of water and a drink of milk, which he gave her. I went in and she proceeded to flip and flop and fool around instead of settle down. I told her I would return to check on her when she as ready to go to sleep, and I left the room. She screamed and cried hysterically. I gave her five minutes or so, only to come back to the same antics. This went on and on. Finally, she got so hysterical she got up (unlike her) and went to the door to scream. It was midnight before she passed out with me (like always) patting her back and stomach (depending on which way she flopped) to get her to go to sleep.

Like my friend in his blog lamenting how they know people whose children go to bed on their own with a story and a kiss, we know these people, too. We've just never been them. I'm to blame for nursing her to sleep every night, and part of me doesn't mind it. I relish the closeness and special time. But it's set her up (and us) for difficult sleep patterns. She'll grow out of it, I know. They all do, eventually. But when you're in the moment, it's hard to remember that.

And she's getting very good at telling you what she's thinking and feeling, so there's no guess work involved anymore. Her sentence structure is nearly perfect, so she's having complex conversations when you'd rather just say, "Because I said so." She's decided she wants to wear shorts and tee shirts exclusively now, regardless of how cold it is outside (although the last couple of days have been very mild). If the tee shirt has stripes, it's even better. Where she got that idea, I don't know. But the shorts are even overtaking the pretty princess phase, I fear.

Brigid is also turning into somewhat of a class clown. When I go to pick her up at school -- they're often on the playground when I get there -- she'll run up to me, hopping on one foot, tongue sticking out, doing goofy noises and making goofy faces. It's funny, which is the exact reaction she's looking for and she gets that. She understands what it is to be funny and get that reaction. It's not an accidental laugh. It's a deliberate action on her part. But her teachers do tell us she is a very different girl from the one we know at home, who has lately taken to hitting and slapping her sisters and her parents at various times. She is still yelling at everybody in the house and being very defiant, but they say she exhibits none of that at school. I don't suppose that's unusual. I just wish they'd send home that kid at the end of the day.

Margaret and Patricia are with Jack and his parents today, going to look at horses for the summer season. His parents own two horses, but they rent one for the summer as well. And they're in Vermont today to find one that's suitable for Patricia to ride. The girls are chomping at the bit to get up there and ride, and they're hoping to spend more stretches of time up there to optimize their riding. But that comes later. Now, we have to get through the next few weeks, which will see the dance recital, chorus concert, band concert and drama club production all in the next two and a half weeks. It's truly hell because each of those things requires rehearsal time as well during those two and a half weeks. I never know which end is up until the middle of June. And then it's Regents week and the girls are here and there for exams before school ends. But summer vacation will be here before we know it. It's already Memorial Day weekend, the official start of the summer season. We even christened it last night with a walk on the (closed) city beach before getting ice cream cones at Harrigan's. With temps in the 80s, it sure felt like summer.

If I Could Get Her to Sing Her Commands, It Would Sound Better

There’s nothing cuter than hearing your 3-year-old singing behind you from her car seat. It makes me proud to hear her intonations on “Here Comes Peter Cottontail,” any song from “Beauty and the Beast,” or the ever-appropriate toddler tome, “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.” Yes, my daughter is a Beatles freak. She particularly likes the “Sgt. Pepper” album, which she clamors for. Not my particular favorite, but a classic nonetheless.

She has always had a very melodious voice – the kid can carry a tune. And she sings all the time. She may not get all the words, but who does? Any one of us singing along with the radio mangles the lyrics now and then. She just does it with gusto.

The other thing she still does with great gusto is boss us around. Yesterday, when she was particularly vexed with me, said, “I’m going to count … One! Two!...” I half expected her to say, “You don’t want me to get to three.” She did say, “Do you want a timeout?” I didn’t tell her I would love a timeout. 48 minutes all to myself. I could manage a nap in that time. Lovely.

Brigid had a Chaskey visit yesterday. He looked at her ears to make sure the fluid he saw last month had dried up, and it had. She’s in fine health. The stuffiness she experiences may or may not be allergies, but he wasn’t concerned because they don’t affect her daily existence. They don’t affect her speech, her eating, her sleeping. In other words, he doesn’t want to dose her with allergy medications if she’s functioning well.

Margaret is taking her friends to see “Star Trek” tonight as part of her birthday present, but I get to miss the festivities, which include a pizza party afterward, because I’ll have Brigid with me first, and then I go to dance class afterward. Can’t miss the next few weeks because the recital is right around the corner. Both Patricia and Margaret are also gearing up for the recital. They dance all four days of the event – every night they dance tap and on Saturday night they dance jazz as well. Next year all four of us will be dancing. That’s going to be a huge challenge for Susan and Nancy, the teachers, because they try to coordinate nights for the groups where multiple family members dance. For now, I just want to get through the next month unscathed. I think I’ll adopt Brigid’s outlook and just keep on singing.