Leave it to a life changing event (aka, taking away the beloved binky) to bring out my little girl’s diva-like qualities. I was nervous about bedtime last night and how she’d do without the comfort of the binky, but I definitely wasn’t prepared for her diva-like powers of influence.
We got to bed fine. She was a bit upset she didn’t have it, but after I reminded her they were all gone and she was a big girl, she seemed satisfied. I read her stories (which she proudly read aloud with me – clearly the binky had limited her verbal skills till now!), tucked her in, and left her to slumber.
An hour later her brother decided to have a meltdown on his way to bed (Murphy’s law, which naturally follows moms around), and woke her up.
So I spent the next hour and a half going up and down the stairs.
“Mama, I need new pull-up…mama, I need new pull-up…mama, poopies in pull-up”.
Up the stairs I trudge, turning on her light and changing her pull-up. Only to find that the pull-up she was wearing was dry and clean. Tuck, kiss, night-night.
“Mama, I wet. I wet, mama. Mama, I wet. Mama, come on, I wet.”
Up the stairs I trudge, turning on her light and checking her PJs and pull-up for any signs of wetness. Finding none, I explain that it’s time to go to sleep and that mama is going downstairs for sleepy too. Tuck, kiss, night-night.
“Mama, I hurt. I hurt, mama. Come on, mama, I hurt.”
OK, so yes, this is the one most moms would probably respond too, but I was onto her game. She wasn’t crying or in distress, nor had I heard her bump against anything. So I laid and waited.
“Mama, cover me up. Cover, mama, cover me up.”
Once again, I trudged up the stairs, covered her up, explained that it was time for us both to go to sleep, and that mama was going downstairs, to sleep for the night, and wouldn’t be back up. Tuck, kiss, night-night.
We were one hour and forty-five minutes into the charade. Then it started. The crying and complete melt down. My husband came down from putting my son to bed (another sleepless character last night) and asked me how much longer I was going to let this go on.
While there was no ill-intent in his question, there was plenty of it in my answer “All night if it has to. I’m not going back up there again. She has to sleep!” Ok, before you start thinking I grew a backbone and started being all hard ass rule enforcer, let me say that my heart was breaking for my little girl.
About ten minutes of the drama went by and then came the demands. She put on her most demanding, strong-sounding voice and started up:
“MAMA, GET UP. GET UP. COME HERE. MAMA, GET UP.”
I listened for a few minutes, wanting to see what would come next.
“MAMA…NO. THANK. YOU. NOT NICE, MAMA. NO. THANK. YOU!”
Umm, ok, time for an intervention? As I was debating the proper approach, she must have rethought her own approach to the situation. Becuase next I hear (in the sweetest sing-song voice EVER):
“Mama, wakey-wakey! Where are you mama? Wakey-wakey!”
She’s learned early that you get more bees with honey. Out of bed I jumped, and headed up to her room to lay down with her and give her the comfort she was missing from her binky. As she drifted off quickly into a deep slumber, I realized, there was no place I’d rather be. No matter how I got here.