I was watching "Precious" on Netflix tonight while I was folding clothes.
Then I read my post from yesterday and I am humbled.
I am so freaking lucky, I (and my kids) don't know what despair is.
Thing 2 got a big part in the class play. She and three other kids are playing The Grass. They're on the stage from the beginning to the end. She is thrilled. Yesterday is a distant blip.
Life is good.
My kids are amazing.
Life is good.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Writings from the black pit of despair
Sometimes it's hard to maintain a positive attitude about things. Sometimes the bad stuff knocks you down like a snowball and just rolls downhill with you, picking up other stuff along the way until it crashes at the bottom in one big heap of badness.
I was exhausted yesterday. I cut the dog's walk short and came home and laid down. I slept about 2 hours. I had to get up and go to Costco. Got home just in time to unload the car, grab the dog and his leash, and hustle off to get the girls from school.
Walking home Thing 2 offered to take the dog's leash from me. She wasn't paying attention, the dog trotted ahead to try and get the stick Thing 1 was holding for him, and the leash popped out of Thing 2's hand.
She started screaming. She said it scared her. My asking "what's going on? Why are you upset?" was like throwing grease on the fire. She kind of calmed down by the time we got home, partly, I think, because Thing 1 and I basically ignored her. But she was primed and ready for trouble. She told me later she'd had a horrible day at school, too.
Tuesdays are our busy days. We don't have much time between walking in the door from school and hustling out the back for gymnastics. For several reasons I had decided to take the dog, and went out to load him up. The girls were dragging their feet, stopping to converse about something or other. So we were just a little bit late out the door to Thing 2's gymnastics class, and as we were leaving Thing 1 announced she was starving. Add a couple more minutes to our lateness.
After I dropped Thing 2 off at gymnastics, I had to take Thing 1 to art. Only they weren't meeting at the regular classroom, they were having a special out door class. Stupid me forgot the map. The last outdoor class they had was at Sugarhouse Park. So we went there. And drove around, walked around, looking for the class. Finally 5 minutes after the class started I loaded her into the car and we drove to the classroom, where the art school director gave us a map to where they would be.
By the time we got there it was nearly 1/2 an hour late for art, and nearly time for me to be picking up Thing 2 from gymnastics. Thing 1 was sobbing because she'd missed her favorite part of art class, and she was embarrassed to have been crying, and she assured me several times she wouldn't want to stay to the class even if we found it. The favorite part of her week, totally ruined.
We pulled up and saw that class was being held at the dog park. She changed her mind. She wiped her tears and sprinted out to the class. By the time I'd exchanged phone numbers with the teacher (in case there was a problem) it was already time for me to be picking up Thing 2.
I drove like a madwoman to the gym, but by the clock I was 12 minutes late picking her up. I went into the gym to get her and found her sitting on one of the mats. She held it together until I hugged her, then she burst into tears. She cried that she was worried I wouldn't come, and was embarrassed that she was there all alone, and she knew everyone was staring at her. She had several other laments but I forget what they were. She was beyond miserable.
I drove back to the dog park, since we'd left the dog there with Thing 1 and I figured she should be drawing, not worrying about him. It had gotten cold, Thing 2 wiped her eyes and decided to play at the playground for a minute. The other kids in the art class came over to the playground and started playing. Apparently it was too cold to draw, but not too cold to play. I went into the dog part to fetch the dog and talk to the teacher for a minute. The next thing I knew Thing 1 was running to get me because Thing 2 had gotten hurt. Thing 2 was standing outside the gate, which she let swing open. I'm watching as a dog went trotting toward the open gate. I lunged, missed, sprawled on the sidewalk in front of the gate, the gate swung open and bonked Thing 2 on the head, and the dog trotted out into the grass. Luckily the teacher was right behind me and she called to the dog, who came back into the dog area. Thing 2 was really sobbing by now. She had been on the teeter totter, and had gotten bumped halfway off, and the other kids hadn't stopped. She was hanging half off the teeter totter and they'd kept going. She assured me they were "SMILING" and earlier one of them had told her to GO AWAY. She was way past miserable in some horrible black pit of despair, gloom, and never ending agony.
Usually on Tuesdays with everything else going on, I take the kids out to dinner somewhere so I don't have to cook. But Thing 2 was still sobbing, and I wasn't going to take her anywhere like that. Since part of this was my fault, with me forgetting to get the map for the drawing class, I told them we were skipping dinner, going right to dessert, and I would make some "Bad Day Good Cupcakes."
Since my only cake mixes were flavors the girls didn't like I ended up making cupcakes from scratch, making a mess of half the kitchen, and the cupcakes came out of the oven around 7:30. Sigh. The kitchen's still kind of a mess.
The kids had to have a bath, and got to bed around 9:00, and the only reason it was that early was because I was standing behind them half the time reminding them of what they should be doing. (No, not nagging... reminding. Nicely. Repeatedly. That's not nagging, is it?)
I went to bed myself at 10:30, which if you know me you know is amazingly early.
Hubby called at midnight as he landed in Denver. I barely woke up enough to talk a little before I rolled over and went back to sleep.
I told the girls that sometimes bad days are actually good because they remind us how good the good days are.
But sometimes bad days are just bad.
I was exhausted yesterday. I cut the dog's walk short and came home and laid down. I slept about 2 hours. I had to get up and go to Costco. Got home just in time to unload the car, grab the dog and his leash, and hustle off to get the girls from school.
Walking home Thing 2 offered to take the dog's leash from me. She wasn't paying attention, the dog trotted ahead to try and get the stick Thing 1 was holding for him, and the leash popped out of Thing 2's hand.
She started screaming. She said it scared her. My asking "what's going on? Why are you upset?" was like throwing grease on the fire. She kind of calmed down by the time we got home, partly, I think, because Thing 1 and I basically ignored her. But she was primed and ready for trouble. She told me later she'd had a horrible day at school, too.
Tuesdays are our busy days. We don't have much time between walking in the door from school and hustling out the back for gymnastics. For several reasons I had decided to take the dog, and went out to load him up. The girls were dragging their feet, stopping to converse about something or other. So we were just a little bit late out the door to Thing 2's gymnastics class, and as we were leaving Thing 1 announced she was starving. Add a couple more minutes to our lateness.
After I dropped Thing 2 off at gymnastics, I had to take Thing 1 to art. Only they weren't meeting at the regular classroom, they were having a special out door class. Stupid me forgot the map. The last outdoor class they had was at Sugarhouse Park. So we went there. And drove around, walked around, looking for the class. Finally 5 minutes after the class started I loaded her into the car and we drove to the classroom, where the art school director gave us a map to where they would be.
By the time we got there it was nearly 1/2 an hour late for art, and nearly time for me to be picking up Thing 2 from gymnastics. Thing 1 was sobbing because she'd missed her favorite part of art class, and she was embarrassed to have been crying, and she assured me several times she wouldn't want to stay to the class even if we found it. The favorite part of her week, totally ruined.
We pulled up and saw that class was being held at the dog park. She changed her mind. She wiped her tears and sprinted out to the class. By the time I'd exchanged phone numbers with the teacher (in case there was a problem) it was already time for me to be picking up Thing 2.
I drove like a madwoman to the gym, but by the clock I was 12 minutes late picking her up. I went into the gym to get her and found her sitting on one of the mats. She held it together until I hugged her, then she burst into tears. She cried that she was worried I wouldn't come, and was embarrassed that she was there all alone, and she knew everyone was staring at her. She had several other laments but I forget what they were. She was beyond miserable.
I drove back to the dog park, since we'd left the dog there with Thing 1 and I figured she should be drawing, not worrying about him. It had gotten cold, Thing 2 wiped her eyes and decided to play at the playground for a minute. The other kids in the art class came over to the playground and started playing. Apparently it was too cold to draw, but not too cold to play. I went into the dog part to fetch the dog and talk to the teacher for a minute. The next thing I knew Thing 1 was running to get me because Thing 2 had gotten hurt. Thing 2 was standing outside the gate, which she let swing open. I'm watching as a dog went trotting toward the open gate. I lunged, missed, sprawled on the sidewalk in front of the gate, the gate swung open and bonked Thing 2 on the head, and the dog trotted out into the grass. Luckily the teacher was right behind me and she called to the dog, who came back into the dog area. Thing 2 was really sobbing by now. She had been on the teeter totter, and had gotten bumped halfway off, and the other kids hadn't stopped. She was hanging half off the teeter totter and they'd kept going. She assured me they were "SMILING" and earlier one of them had told her to GO AWAY. She was way past miserable in some horrible black pit of despair, gloom, and never ending agony.
Usually on Tuesdays with everything else going on, I take the kids out to dinner somewhere so I don't have to cook. But Thing 2 was still sobbing, and I wasn't going to take her anywhere like that. Since part of this was my fault, with me forgetting to get the map for the drawing class, I told them we were skipping dinner, going right to dessert, and I would make some "Bad Day Good Cupcakes."
Since my only cake mixes were flavors the girls didn't like I ended up making cupcakes from scratch, making a mess of half the kitchen, and the cupcakes came out of the oven around 7:30. Sigh. The kitchen's still kind of a mess.
The kids had to have a bath, and got to bed around 9:00, and the only reason it was that early was because I was standing behind them half the time reminding them of what they should be doing. (No, not nagging... reminding. Nicely. Repeatedly. That's not nagging, is it?)
I went to bed myself at 10:30, which if you know me you know is amazingly early.
Hubby called at midnight as he landed in Denver. I barely woke up enough to talk a little before I rolled over and went back to sleep.
I told the girls that sometimes bad days are actually good because they remind us how good the good days are.
But sometimes bad days are just bad.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Family Date Night
Hubby and Thing 1 had a "Daddy-Daughter Night" church activity last night. Thing 2 heard about it and wanted to go. She probably could have, but I thought Daddy and Daughter 1 needed some face time. So I told Thing 2 that she and I could have a date.
"Can we go for ice cream?"
Yes. Thing 1 doesn't like ice cream. Getting ice cream is what Thing 2 and I do when I'm making up for some fun thing that Thing 1 is doing that Thing 2 doesn't get to do.
We could also go to Old Spaghetti Factory (Thing 1 doesn't like) or Noodles and Company (Thing 1 doesn't like). There are quite a few choices.
I also proposed to Thing 2 that we could see the Children's Dance Theater play at the Capitol Theater. She vacillated. She didn't know what to do. As I kissed her goodbye outside the school yesterday morning I asked her one last time if she wanted to go to the play, because if she did I needed to get tickets. She still didn't know.
She called me an hour later and said she'd been crying. She made up her mind to go to the play and was upset that it might be too late to get tickets so her teacher let her call me.
I bought tickets.
The Capitol Theater is as close as we get to High Society in my world. I told Thing 2 she had to wear a skirt and her dress coat. I even took the price tag off the matching hat so she could wear that too.
We all had a quick pizza dinner then we raced off to our respective dates.
Thing 1 had a good time with Daddy. When I asked him later how it went, he kind of rolled his eyes and said it was fine. A lot like last year, some relay games... whatever. It was fun being there with Thing 1. Oh, okay.
Thing 2 and I... had a MARVELOUS time! She liked the bright lights and the crowd of the theater. The ticket taker directed us to the coat check room where they gave us a big cushion for Thing 2 to sit on. I had brought binoculars. Our seats weren't fabulous, on the back row of the ground floor, but I'd gotten Thing 2 on the aisle and she could see everything. There was a pre-show, with some other dancers that Thing 2 did not enjoy so much... "When is the REAL SHOW going to start?!?!" Then the lights came down again and Alice Through the Looking Glass started. (I don't know how long that link will be active.)
We know one of the little girls who played the caterpillar and one who played a card. It was exciting for Thing 2 to try and pick out her friends with the binoculars. The little kids dances were by far the most entertaining. The cards, the flowers, the caterpillar, and the teacups... just charming. As the show was ending, the different groups came out for their final goodbye dances and Thing 2 grabbed my arm... I saw she had tears shining in the lights from the stage. I asked her what was wrong, and she just whispered "I love you so much!" Awwwwwww....
And even though it was 9:45 or so, well past bedtime when we left the parking lot, Thing 2 and I went to Baskett Robbins for ice cream.
It was a magical night.
Mom dates totally rock.
"Can we go for ice cream?"
Yes. Thing 1 doesn't like ice cream. Getting ice cream is what Thing 2 and I do when I'm making up for some fun thing that Thing 1 is doing that Thing 2 doesn't get to do.
We could also go to Old Spaghetti Factory (Thing 1 doesn't like) or Noodles and Company (Thing 1 doesn't like). There are quite a few choices.
I also proposed to Thing 2 that we could see the Children's Dance Theater play at the Capitol Theater. She vacillated. She didn't know what to do. As I kissed her goodbye outside the school yesterday morning I asked her one last time if she wanted to go to the play, because if she did I needed to get tickets. She still didn't know.
She called me an hour later and said she'd been crying. She made up her mind to go to the play and was upset that it might be too late to get tickets so her teacher let her call me.
I bought tickets.
The Capitol Theater is as close as we get to High Society in my world. I told Thing 2 she had to wear a skirt and her dress coat. I even took the price tag off the matching hat so she could wear that too.
We all had a quick pizza dinner then we raced off to our respective dates.
Thing 1 had a good time with Daddy. When I asked him later how it went, he kind of rolled his eyes and said it was fine. A lot like last year, some relay games... whatever. It was fun being there with Thing 1. Oh, okay.
Thing 2 and I... had a MARVELOUS time! She liked the bright lights and the crowd of the theater. The ticket taker directed us to the coat check room where they gave us a big cushion for Thing 2 to sit on. I had brought binoculars. Our seats weren't fabulous, on the back row of the ground floor, but I'd gotten Thing 2 on the aisle and she could see everything. There was a pre-show, with some other dancers that Thing 2 did not enjoy so much... "When is the REAL SHOW going to start?!?!" Then the lights came down again and Alice Through the Looking Glass started. (I don't know how long that link will be active.)
We know one of the little girls who played the caterpillar and one who played a card. It was exciting for Thing 2 to try and pick out her friends with the binoculars. The little kids dances were by far the most entertaining. The cards, the flowers, the caterpillar, and the teacups... just charming. As the show was ending, the different groups came out for their final goodbye dances and Thing 2 grabbed my arm... I saw she had tears shining in the lights from the stage. I asked her what was wrong, and she just whispered "I love you so much!" Awwwwwww....
And even though it was 9:45 or so, well past bedtime when we left the parking lot, Thing 2 and I went to Baskett Robbins for ice cream.
It was a magical night.
Mom dates totally rock.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Stop oozing color!!
I wrote a couple of posts ago (in case you missed it) how Thing 1 has been frustrated lately that there's not enough time at school for her to express her artistic side. Third grade has too many scholastic requirements and art got squeezed out. Even though she has an after school class in which to expend artistic energy, unbidden creativity oozes out of her sometimes.
She was frustrated last week that her teacher scolded her for being artistic. When the assignment came home I saw what happened.
Now I realize that the teacher must have her reasons for stopping Thing 1 from going psychedelic on her assignments... Maybe she's worried if others see Thing 1 doing it, they'll want to do it too, and it will slow down the class. Does she think decorating your homework is one more stepping stone on the path to becoming a graffiti tagger? I don't know... but it was so sad hearing Thing 1 (who is an angelic student) get reprimanded for anything, and even harder to hear she was reprimanded for finding a way to be artistic.
Here's the assignment.
Exhibit A
You can see where she got caught, then had to go back to basic one color shading.
What the heck is wrong with Partridge Family Bussing her assignments? Not a darn thing that I can see. Those little smiley faces aren't making up for the fact that she's being forced into conformity.
Curse the homogenization of the public school system!
--------
The kids saw this post sitting up on the computer screen and I got the whole story.
Thing 1 said she had half finished her math worksheet but then had to go to a reading group. When she came back to her desk the note was there and the (student) teacher came over and told her she couldn't draw pictures because it wastes time and she'd have to do the whole thing over again plain. Grrrrrr!
She was frustrated last week that her teacher scolded her for being artistic. When the assignment came home I saw what happened.
Now I realize that the teacher must have her reasons for stopping Thing 1 from going psychedelic on her assignments... Maybe she's worried if others see Thing 1 doing it, they'll want to do it too, and it will slow down the class. Does she think decorating your homework is one more stepping stone on the path to becoming a graffiti tagger? I don't know... but it was so sad hearing Thing 1 (who is an angelic student) get reprimanded for anything, and even harder to hear she was reprimanded for finding a way to be artistic.
Here's the assignment.
Exhibit A
What the heck is wrong with Partridge Family Bussing her assignments? Not a darn thing that I can see. Those little smiley faces aren't making up for the fact that she's being forced into conformity.
Curse the homogenization of the public school system!
--------
The kids saw this post sitting up on the computer screen and I got the whole story.
Thing 1 said she had half finished her math worksheet but then had to go to a reading group. When she came back to her desk the note was there and the (student) teacher came over and told her she couldn't draw pictures because it wastes time and she'd have to do the whole thing over again plain. Grrrrrr!
Thursday, March 17, 2011
A visit from the Leprechauns
Two leprechauns came to our house last night. This is not our first leprechaun visit and now each year it becomes more and more expected. I see this as a problem.
The leprechauns have made it a habit to visit only the girls' room, where they arrange stuffed animals in the middle of the floor, move things around the room, hang underpants from the ceiling fan, and sometimes hide chocolate coins around.
This is the 2nd year that letters were exchanged. The girls ask the leprechauns, who seem to travel in pairs, questions about where they're from, what it's like to be small, and where they get their gold. The leprechauns reply in tiny tiny font that can barely be read.
This year the girls hit the jackpot and found nearly 90 chocolate coins around their room (they counted, not me). I suspect they may find 10 more if they'd clean up a little more, but I'm not sure.
All I know is the leprechaun visits are taxing on me, and every year it seems to get more and more of a production. I asked if the girls had told anyone at school about their leprechaun visit. Thing 2 said yes, she'd told a bunch of people. Another girl in her class was also visited and received the chocolate coins. Thing 1, in third grade, said she only told a couple people and wasn't as forthcoming about the whole thing.
I wonder how long the leprechauns will be welcome... how much longer this will go on. I expect we're soon approaching the point where these kinds of visits will become less of an ordeal, and then will abruptly end. Which will be both a relief and a very sad thing.
Hubby comes home tomorrow, which will be awfully nice as he's been gone almost two weeks.
The leprechauns have made it a habit to visit only the girls' room, where they arrange stuffed animals in the middle of the floor, move things around the room, hang underpants from the ceiling fan, and sometimes hide chocolate coins around.
This is the 2nd year that letters were exchanged. The girls ask the leprechauns, who seem to travel in pairs, questions about where they're from, what it's like to be small, and where they get their gold. The leprechauns reply in tiny tiny font that can barely be read.
This year the girls hit the jackpot and found nearly 90 chocolate coins around their room (they counted, not me). I suspect they may find 10 more if they'd clean up a little more, but I'm not sure.
All I know is the leprechaun visits are taxing on me, and every year it seems to get more and more of a production. I asked if the girls had told anyone at school about their leprechaun visit. Thing 2 said yes, she'd told a bunch of people. Another girl in her class was also visited and received the chocolate coins. Thing 1, in third grade, said she only told a couple people and wasn't as forthcoming about the whole thing.
I wonder how long the leprechauns will be welcome... how much longer this will go on. I expect we're soon approaching the point where these kinds of visits will become less of an ordeal, and then will abruptly end. Which will be both a relief and a very sad thing.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
I Wanna Iguana
Thing 1 needs art. She joneses for it. She MUST draw.
Once when we were at the State Fair standing in the rabbit warehouse, she was nearly shaking when she turned to me and said "Do you have some paper?" I just happened to have a tiny little notebook from Hubby's work. "And a pen or pencil?" In my checkbook. She just HAD to draw the rabbits. Not that it was a totally realistic rendering or anything, she just NEEDED to record her experience on paper. That's how she's wired.
So when she moved from 2nd grade to 3rd and the level of daily art expression allowed dropped dramatically, so did her spirits.
It took me a while, but I figured out a good art class and got her in it.
She has been much less like a drug addict in withdrawal ever since. She'd be happy if art class was every day, though, instead of once a week.
Today they drew from a model. Of course models in art class are often kind of along the lines of this:
But these are elementary school kids. This was their model.
The model was the teacher's pet iguana. Named Pickles. Pickles is about 17 years old, and weighs "about as much as a fat cat." He eats vegetables (NOT CRICKETS!!!) and is extremely tame. Totally open to being picked up. And handled. By ten extremely interested kids. And their siblings. And their parents. He was incredible!
I understand that not all iguanas are as friendly as Pickles. But I'm understanding my kid's philosophy to trade up in the pet department. I like our gecko, but hate the crickets.
That is a wicked awesome pet.
Besides, I just like saying it.
I wanna iguana.
Once when we were at the State Fair standing in the rabbit warehouse, she was nearly shaking when she turned to me and said "Do you have some paper?" I just happened to have a tiny little notebook from Hubby's work. "And a pen or pencil?" In my checkbook. She just HAD to draw the rabbits. Not that it was a totally realistic rendering or anything, she just NEEDED to record her experience on paper. That's how she's wired.
So when she moved from 2nd grade to 3rd and the level of daily art expression allowed dropped dramatically, so did her spirits.
It took me a while, but I figured out a good art class and got her in it.
She has been much less like a drug addict in withdrawal ever since. She'd be happy if art class was every day, though, instead of once a week.
Today they drew from a model. Of course models in art class are often kind of along the lines of this:
But these are elementary school kids. This was their model.
The model was the teacher's pet iguana. Named Pickles. Pickles is about 17 years old, and weighs "about as much as a fat cat." He eats vegetables (NOT CRICKETS!!!) and is extremely tame. Totally open to being picked up. And handled. By ten extremely interested kids. And their siblings. And their parents. He was incredible!
I understand that not all iguanas are as friendly as Pickles. But I'm understanding my kid's philosophy to trade up in the pet department. I like our gecko, but hate the crickets.
Besides, I just like saying it.
I wanna iguana.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
What a Nightmare!
Thing 2 has long been my troubled sleeper. She hardly slept through the night until into her third year of life, and has had a really rough time off and on with nightmares. Compare this to her sister who slept through the night at 3 months and has only called me a handful of times in her 9 years.
Thing 2 can go for weeks with no incident, and then I'll have three or four nights in a row where she's screaming for me in the middle of the night. Then when I get there and calm her down, she's insistent on telling me her nightmare, in detail. Usually after the nightmare, when she's 100% sure she's awake, is when the scary part happens. She sees something or someone right over her bed... or hears them right next to her bed... that's when the screaming starts. Some of the descriptions she's given me have creeped me out too, but my assurances that there was NO ONE in her room, and she had to have still been just a little bit asleep don't convince her one tiny bit. She KNOWS there was a monster/person in her room. And yes, the screaming is heartbreaking and she is truly frightened, and I am usually pretty sympathetic and calm and sometimes it does just work to hold her and pet her head and rub her back until she calms down and can go back to sleep. But over the years that too has worked less and less and my sympathy has waned a little.
When Hubby's out of town, my resolution to the nightmare problem has been to take her into my bed with me. I am not a co-sleeping advocate, but I am a ME SLEEPING advocate, and if my unconscious sleeping presence can calm her enough for both of us to get through the night, that is a concession I'm willing to make. Also it allows me to calm her down on subsequent outbursts by just reaching for her instead of tossing off the warm covers and sprinting down the hall to her room.
I usually have a large feather pillow in the middle of the bed which I spoon to compensate for Hubby's absence, and I put Thing 2 on the other side of it. I hold onto her waist or back or shoulder across the pillow. She doesn't like this much. She wants to be plastered to me. But she wiggles, thrashes, touches my face, and pokes me with her hands, feet, and elbows. So I need the pillow there as an insulator between myself and all that thrashing. It's my only hope of getting any sleep at all once she's in bed with me. When Hubby's in town and she wakes up with a nightmare, sometimes he goes and squeezes into her twin bed with her, and sometimes she joins one of us in our bed and the other takes her bed.
Thing 1 sleeps in the top bunk, by the way, and almost always sleeps right through the screaming and crying. Thank heaven!
Last night Thing 2 woke me up at 3:00 am. I stumbled into her bedroom, got her to stop screaming, and lead her back to our bed. I situated her on the other side of the pillow.
For the next hour we alternated her whimpering and reaching across the pillow to me, and me petting her and asking her to please stop wiggling and be quiet and go back to sleep. She'd lie still for a minute or two and I'd just start to doze off when she'd thrash and start over. She insisted that she'd seen something (with her sleeping mask on) and the only way she could make it go away was to poke it or wiggle at it. Yes, really. She was becoming as agitated with me for asking her to stop as I was with her wiggling, because, she insisted, this was how to make the scary stuff go away.
I believe myself a patient person, but after AN HOUR of this my patience was completely gone. I started pointing out that a tired mommy is an ANGRY MOMMY and if she couldn't let me sleep she had to go back to her own bed. Of course this gets her really crying and apologizing, and saying she needs a REAL HUG not just across the pillow. At that point I gave up, swapped places with her and the pillow, rolled her onto her other side so her poking appendages were mostly facing the other direction, and spooned her. Either I was exhausted enough to sleep through any further thrashing, or she slept the rest of the night without thrashing but the next thing I remember was my alarm going off.
Ever since a particularly bad nightmare in California the nightmares have been more frequent, and I have the bags under my eyes to prove it. Nightlights just cast creepy shadows. Stuffed animal protectors work sporadically, but apparently lose their powers. She wears a sleeping mask, which helped a lot for a long time, but it too seems to have lost its nightmare defense potency.
I have no real answers. I'm too tired to figure out answers.
Thing 2 can go for weeks with no incident, and then I'll have three or four nights in a row where she's screaming for me in the middle of the night. Then when I get there and calm her down, she's insistent on telling me her nightmare, in detail. Usually after the nightmare, when she's 100% sure she's awake, is when the scary part happens. She sees something or someone right over her bed... or hears them right next to her bed... that's when the screaming starts. Some of the descriptions she's given me have creeped me out too, but my assurances that there was NO ONE in her room, and she had to have still been just a little bit asleep don't convince her one tiny bit. She KNOWS there was a monster/person in her room. And yes, the screaming is heartbreaking and she is truly frightened, and I am usually pretty sympathetic and calm and sometimes it does just work to hold her and pet her head and rub her back until she calms down and can go back to sleep. But over the years that too has worked less and less and my sympathy has waned a little.
When Hubby's out of town, my resolution to the nightmare problem has been to take her into my bed with me. I am not a co-sleeping advocate, but I am a ME SLEEPING advocate, and if my unconscious sleeping presence can calm her enough for both of us to get through the night, that is a concession I'm willing to make. Also it allows me to calm her down on subsequent outbursts by just reaching for her instead of tossing off the warm covers and sprinting down the hall to her room.
I usually have a large feather pillow in the middle of the bed which I spoon to compensate for Hubby's absence, and I put Thing 2 on the other side of it. I hold onto her waist or back or shoulder across the pillow. She doesn't like this much. She wants to be plastered to me. But she wiggles, thrashes, touches my face, and pokes me with her hands, feet, and elbows. So I need the pillow there as an insulator between myself and all that thrashing. It's my only hope of getting any sleep at all once she's in bed with me. When Hubby's in town and she wakes up with a nightmare, sometimes he goes and squeezes into her twin bed with her, and sometimes she joins one of us in our bed and the other takes her bed.
Thing 1 sleeps in the top bunk, by the way, and almost always sleeps right through the screaming and crying. Thank heaven!
Last night Thing 2 woke me up at 3:00 am. I stumbled into her bedroom, got her to stop screaming, and lead her back to our bed. I situated her on the other side of the pillow.
For the next hour we alternated her whimpering and reaching across the pillow to me, and me petting her and asking her to please stop wiggling and be quiet and go back to sleep. She'd lie still for a minute or two and I'd just start to doze off when she'd thrash and start over. She insisted that she'd seen something (with her sleeping mask on) and the only way she could make it go away was to poke it or wiggle at it. Yes, really. She was becoming as agitated with me for asking her to stop as I was with her wiggling, because, she insisted, this was how to make the scary stuff go away.
I believe myself a patient person, but after AN HOUR of this my patience was completely gone. I started pointing out that a tired mommy is an ANGRY MOMMY and if she couldn't let me sleep she had to go back to her own bed. Of course this gets her really crying and apologizing, and saying she needs a REAL HUG not just across the pillow. At that point I gave up, swapped places with her and the pillow, rolled her onto her other side so her poking appendages were mostly facing the other direction, and spooned her. Either I was exhausted enough to sleep through any further thrashing, or she slept the rest of the night without thrashing but the next thing I remember was my alarm going off.
Ever since a particularly bad nightmare in California the nightmares have been more frequent, and I have the bags under my eyes to prove it. Nightlights just cast creepy shadows. Stuffed animal protectors work sporadically, but apparently lose their powers. She wears a sleeping mask, which helped a lot for a long time, but it too seems to have lost its nightmare defense potency.
I have no real answers. I'm too tired to figure out answers.
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