Lie #49: My kid won’t ever ______ because ________.
It’s the lie we all tell ourselves. This – THIS is the doozy. This is the one you tell yourself before you have children. You know the one. The one where you stare at the stranger’s kid having a meltdown in a restaurant and you two look at one another and nod in silent assent. The one where you insist, to yourself or anyone else that’ll listen, that your child will be a good eater and won’t subsist off of french fries and yogurt. The one where you quietly full body eyeroll when your friend tells you her behavioral nighttime routine woes because of tantrums.
“Our kid won’t ever do that.”
The last one is me. One. Hundred. Percent. I never understood these moms that talked about how their kids kept them up all night. I, admittedly, still don’t. I find it completely foreign. But what I did do is tell a big ole fat lie. “When I have kids, they are NOT going to interfere with my sleep schedule when they are old enough.” I got bolder. “They are going to have a strict bedtime routine because research shows [whose? No clue] that children with set schedules are more successful in life. I [imagine puffed up chest here] will be a balanced parent.”
Okay, it isn’t all lies. Some of it is aspirational goals, but let’s just talk about that whopper where I insisted that my child, my offspring, the being that shares my genetics, would do something. Nobody tells me what to do. My husband doesn’t try. I often remind him, bless him, just because, that I do whatever I want. Tell me not to do something and I’m probably going to do just that.
So what made me think that my child would not be like me and that my little darling would be compliant, doe eyed and obedient? Oh don’t get me wrong, LD is pretty marvelous, but he did inherit my temper. It came out in the last month or so and boy is it the most attractive thing I’ve ever seen in my child. Not.
The newest thing is the nighttime routine, which formerly was my tale of triumph. “My baby is a good sleeper, a great sleeper! He sleeps at least nine hours a night and goes down without much hassle at all!”
Uhhuh. Right. Cue the tantrum. LD has decided, for whatever reason, that bedtime is unacceptable. I plan to full take revenge on him when he’s a teenager trying to take a nap, by the way. For now, just suffice it to say that he despises sleep. I, in efforts to get some sleep on my own, have taken to creating an entire new nighttime routine. I sing, we dance, he stabs his little claws in my eyes and gives me a devious smirk.
I sing, we dance, he pinches my lips with his little nails and gives me another devious smirk.
Finally, the eyes close. The paci falls out of his mouth. He is OUT. I lay him down and sneak out of the bedroom with the stealth of a ninja (although let’s be honest, I probably look more like the mom in this video), and continue my nighttime routine.
At least he isn’t in the bed with me. My kid won’t EVER do that.
I am awakened by a tiny foot kicking me in the face. The tiny human attached to it woke up hysterical not one, but two times in the night. The first time we were able to console said hysteria, but time two. Time two did me in. Bouncing on the crib rail making enough noise to wake the dead, scraping his teeth against his crib, full. blown. tantrum.
I rocked, I sang, I danced, I chanted, I stood on one foot, I beckoned the Sand Man. Nada. At 5:20, exhausted and bleary-eyed, I gave up and brought the little monster in the bed. He scooted all the way to the middle of my pillow and promptly went to sleep. I went to sleep with my head hanging off the side of the bed, but hey, I was asleep.
But at least I didn’t start him off in the bed with me. I won’t ever do that.