I’ve got to admit, this Mommy gig has been kicking my sagging rear side up one side of the street and down the other the last few days or so.
And by so, I mean 9 years.
But it just feels like in the last few days, I’m flailing more than usual.
Some of you have been asking me how Jensen is doing. And, really, compared to a year ago, he’s making huge strides. However, he is still having trouble sleeping. And the trickle down affect is that so is everyone else in the house.
But, Fiddledaddy is putting him through operation “Baby Boot Camp.” And you know what that means. No rocking of the 50 pound baby back to sleep.
Therefore, he has gone from hollering for his beloved daddy to come and comfort him. Now it’s mommy that he wants.
Because mommy is easy. And when woken up out of a much needed and deserved sound sleep, she can be talked into nearly anything.
So, the daddy is the one to deal with him. Which really works in my favor. But, I lay awake most nights wondering what’s going on back there in his little boy room.
It’s a mommy sickness.
And yet, Jensen’s love of his daddy is so profound that if I should dare to take Jensen away from his daddy to, say, go pick up the sisters from an activity, he will sit in his car seat and SCREAM the entire trip. I WANT DADDY, I WANT DADDY, I WANT DADDY. Times one trillion. With a few, “I DON’T WIKE YOU MOMMY”s sprinkled in for good measure.
That was the scene yesterday in the mommy van. And friends, it’s all I can do not to escalate the situation by offering a little yelling and screaming myself. With a few threats of military school sprinkled in. For good measure.
But I didn’t. Calmly, through tears, I prayed. “Oh dear Lord, help me.” Times one trillion. Then, “It’s only a season, it’s only a season.” Times one trillion. Followed by, “Oh look, a STARBUCKS! WITH A DRIVE-THRU.”
Which besides extreme praying, always makes me feel a little better. Sort of like a little “Mommy Bail-Out.”
Then I made the mistake of once again taking him into the library. We go over the rules.
•Stay with mommy.
•No climbing on the bookshelves.
•No licking of the floor.
How hard can those rules be to follow?
As you might guess, he yelled. He ran out the automatic doors toward the parking lot filled with elderly drivers, causing me to abandon my books to be checked out, and wallet, and he kept hollering “POOPOO PEEPEE.” Times one trillion. I really do need to find a new library. In another county.
Yes, yes, there are consequences. But, since he’s 3, the trouble he gets into is way more fun than any punishment that can be implemented in a parking lot. With security cameras.
By days end, I was low, friends, I was low.
And then, a small 3 year old boy came and wrapped his little arms around my knees and said, “I do wuv you, mommy.” As he looked up at me with big blue eyes.
And I dropped to my knees and hugged him, “I do wuv you too, sugar bear.” And while I was there, I thanked God for that precious moment. Which He knew I so desperately needed.