About an hour and a half ago, I was planning on posting how great the kids have been today. Barely an argument or a mishap between them. Their school conference was today and both S and I are doing very well in first grade. Well. Ahem. Let's just say I can't write that anymore. See, Ariel usually 'does' bedtime while I get to studying. The kids do pretty good in listening and obeying him.
Ariel has spent every night going to the Olympia Film Festival - sort of a combined vacation/birthday present. I am at home doing single parent duty. I am very happy for him to go and enjoy himself - I like my share of odd films, but eight hours a night of Oly Film movies are way out of my league. Bedtime is testing all of my reserves....it seems that every night one child will not do anything I say. Tonight it was Shkuri. She didn't like the book I read. I put too much toothpaste on her toothbrush - and she most certainly did not want to go to bed. She is very stubborn and defiant when she gets in a mood like that, and I am afraid I was reduced to frothing at the mouth when she continued to turn on the light after I shut the door. At this very moment, she is yelling at me to screw her lightbulbs back in - but I think I have finally won this round.
In my quieter moments, I happily imagine myself as uber-Mom, who never loses her temper and always serves her children organic food and reads them Proust at bedtime (in the original French, of course). I am really hoping that all of this is providing some great character building (for me, as well as the kids)
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5 comments:
Believe me, when they are older your kids will thank you for never, ever subjecting them to Proust (in the orginal French).
I understand the light bulb. In my household we have 3 daughters. At one point there was significant door slamming. While I chose to see this as an exclamation point in their conversation, their father saw it as the ultimate "up yours" gesture. Dad's solution? Remove the door from its hinges! That led to cries of, "No, Dad, not the door! It was an accident! Don't take my door!!!!!" The youngest is 22... I can laugh now.
Though I have a long way to go before I'll experience anything similar, it sounds like you did a great job. Quick thinking on the light bulbs!
Being a film festival widow sounds a lot better than being a football widow. As for me, I'm a Zope widow (Zope being the oddball programming language John programs in).
You took the light bulbs? That's a riot.
Just say no to Proust.
I think the uber-moms who feed their kids homemade organic food exist in the same realm with the tooth fairy and Santa Claus... and they secretly buy Cocoa Puffs and Oreos.
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