Right now, Ivy is sleeping soundly. To get her there, however, took every ounce of...well...I don't think it had anything to do with me and more to do with the gallons of grace God pours out on our little family daily...hourly...ok minute..ly. We have a routine, brush teeth, wash hands, tell mommy or daddy goodnight and give hugs and kisses, read books, rock, then crawl into bed....then it all falls apart. Crawl into bed, climb back out, climb on to my lap, demand to be rocked more, find more reasons to not be asleep:"blow nose", "poopy diaper", "wadder", and my new personal favorite "wanna wear dis dess (dress)".
My brain and hormones go to battle about 5 minutes after the "real" routine is over. This is my baby, my sweet little love. How can you say no to this?
So, I let her get away with climbing and cuddling and "wead 'nother book". But then I start to think, what am I teaching her? She needs sleep, I need sleep. No, no, I can handle this for a few more minutes, it's not going to hurt anything, she'll learn eventually. But I'm tired, she's tired, we need sleep. Now! Then my little sweet bug turns into this...this...thing. You know, a toddler. The creature everyone warns you about. So tonight, I tried to stick to my guns. My defective, where's the safety on this thing, gun.
First tactic I tried was simply putting her into bed. And she sits up, immediately. So I lay her back down. Pop! In my state, I think, ok, I'll hold her down gently for a few seconds, just so she knows I'm not going anywhere. This comes across as "Why is mommy trying to smother me, oh my gosh I'm dying!!!"
Alright, new tactic
I tell her that mommy has to leave, but I'll just be on the other side of the door. She's relatively calm as I'm saying this, but of course, as long as I'm talking to her, I'm still inside the room. As soon as I cross the threshold, the you've dipped me in hot oil screaming starts. She climbs out of bed and starts toward the door. Now, I'm not proud of it, but I thought that holding the door shut would be no different than her being confined to a crib. She only used to cry for a few minutes and we'd be back. By the way, 2 year olds are surprisingly strong! And smart. She used her step stool to turn on the light and scream into the door. That tactic lasted 5 minutes. Part of me wanted to scoop up my baby and just rock her. Why can't I just rock her again? How is it stunting her? But again, I'm tired! she's tired! But part of me was thinking, should I spank her? She's blatantly disobeying me. I don't know what to do!!
Finally,
the super nanny tactic.
Over and over and over again, put her in bed, walk out the door, wait for her to come out the door, put her back into bed. Every time I would kiss her on the forehead...otherwise I think I would have started sobbing. Every time she would say in her sweetest voice "come 'ere". Every time it melts my heart. Please? Can't I just sit and rock her and cuddle her and snuggle?
But then! after 30 minutes of this she suddenly collapses and is out.
And suddenly my perfect angel is back. But I do start sobbing. Granted I'm 8 months pregnant, but still, it's emotionally hard. I can't quantify how angry I would be sitting in the hall, listening to her scream and knowing that any second she'd walk out. Angry with her for not sleeping, for not trusting me when I say I will be back. Angry with myself because why can't she trust me? Because I don't know how to get through to her. Because why don't I know how to do this? Angry because all I really want is to hold my baby because there will be a time where I can't anymore and why can't I?
The truth is, I think I can. I don't think it will damage her. I think she would eventually learn. And even when she does, I think she'll have moments where she'll just want to cuddle again.
I wish I could wrap this up and say "this is what I learned, and all will be well from now on", but I can't. All I can say is I'm amazed at how being a parent shows me daily how flawed and sinful I really am. Tomorrow really is a new day, right?
-Michelle
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