Dear Sweet Child of Mine

11 Mar

Thank you so much for bursting into our room at 0-dark thirty this morning, with your bright bubbly “HI MOOOOOM!  LOOOK!” greeting, then shoving your crackTab in our direction so we could see that you had gotten up way too early, found your crackTab and turned on Netflix all by your little self.  And even put on your headphones.  That was great.  Sure, when you wear the headphones, you decide that you MUST SHOUT EVERY WORD, but hey, at least we weren’t greeted with a theme song, right?

Yeah, that was precious of you.

I’m also thrilled that when Dad went “No” and took away the crackTab, you didn’t throw a fit.  Really, that was most appreciated.  My confused state that had just been dreaming of a Sherlock episode and was still trying to figure out what was going on probably couldn’t have withstood sudden shrieking.

Dad conned you into crawling into bed with us (as with his wisdom, he knew that it was just late enough in the wee dark hours of the morning that you wouldn’t go back to sleep on your own in your room, but we’d stand a chance of getting a tiny bit more sleep if you snuggled in with us.

Okay, so even a tiny bit more sleep didn’t happen.  What did happen was a lot of elbowing, kneeing, hair in my face, arm going numb, tossing, turning and my favorite – the toenails scraping up and down my leg as you inserted your feet between my calves, making me realize that you need your amazingly sharp toenails trimmed.

At least you were sweet about it all.  But I’m pretty sure I have 19 small bruises up and down my left side.

Of course, I have some regrets.  Like I regret putting you to bed early.  Sure, your teacher was emailing us because you’ve been acting tired in school all week, and you have put yourself to bed early the past few nights, so it made sense at 8 pm last night to send you to bed early.  But watching you all bright eyed, bushy tailed and peppy before dawn made me realize it was a horrible mistake.  Also, I regret staying up late to finish watching a movie.  If I had known my day was going to start so early, I would have cried myself to sleep sooner.

I was nice enough to send a warning email to your teacher.  I think I spelled everything right.  But now she’s warned for when you crash just after lunchtime.  Try not to crash too spectacularly, okay?  We like your teacher.

But for now, thank you for being the bright little happy bird this dawn.  You are fourteen shades of cute and snuggly.  But maybe, next time, we could save it for Saturday morning?  Say maybe after 7 am?

I’m going to drink all the coffee now, and try to drag through the day without getting too much rug burn on my bum.




6 Responses to “Dear Sweet Child of Mine”

  1. Grainne March 11, 2014 at 11:17 am #

    lol! Oh the joys. The night before last I was awoken multiple times to the sound of Minecraft as my son snuck his iPad into his bedroom and played while we thought he was sleeping. I took it away so many times I forgot where I hid it that last time and it hours to find it.

    Sooo hear you. 🙂

    • saracvt March 11, 2014 at 11:37 am #

      This probably doesn’t make you feel better right now, but after the nap, it may make you laugh–been there. Been there in spades, my sister. And she DID have the spectacular emotional meltdown/hissy fit/cathartic rage/”what just happened?” when we took away HER crackPad. That is why said crackPad (I adore that term for it) is now resting away in a spot where only Mom knows where it is, because even Dad sometimes grows weak under the power of the Puppy Eyes, but Mom never does. And she needs to live without it for a while. She was too emotionally dependent on it.

      Oh, I’m mean. 😉

      • Grainne March 11, 2014 at 11:43 am #

        lolol! I love that you have to keep it from Dad too! This world huh? What happened to human to human interaction? (Says she, through a blog, on the internet…) lol!

        You’re an awesome mom!!

      • saracvt March 11, 2014 at 12:59 pm #

        Why, thank you muchly! I can’t think when I heard that last–with precocious 11-year-old twin girls, what I usually hear is, “Moo-oom, you’re EM-barrassing ME!!” or “Mom. You. Are. So. Lame.” This last one is always said matter-of-factly–that’s the way it’s always been, always will be, worlds without end.

        No, the “awesome mom” stage has passed me by, and will not come again until they need help with their own infants, hopefully not for a long time yet.

  2. Owls and Orchids March 12, 2014 at 9:21 am #

    Aahh the memories 🙂
    Susan x

  3. jenniferpaige213 March 12, 2014 at 5:54 pm #

    Love crackTab! My kids struggle every week day to get woken up at 7 to go to school yet are up at 6 on the weekends to play on their crackTabs!

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