Guess what? Red is upstairs crying in her bed. (See the picture over there? That is a self-portrait she drew- she wanted me to caption it, "This is me crying." At least she's self-aware.)I know. Shocking news this is not. It seems like her default setting some days. But today, I did everything I could to prevent this tantrum that I could see coming a mile away, like a tornado still faint in the distance, but clearly gaining strength and speed.
So here's the deal. We're currently at the stage in which whatever I ask or state or suggest is met with the exact opposite reaction from my darling almost-four-year-old. (Or alternatively, this is no stage at all, and she's just blessed with a temperament from hell. One or the other.) I am all about giving "warnings" of what is to come next. We live our weekday lives very routine-ish, as in you could set your clock by the time that we sit down at the lunch table, read a story or two and climb into bed for naptime. Lately, Red has been making a big to do about nap at the very last minute. She climbs into her bed while I put Pudge to bed in his room, and when I return, she's struck the Pose of Defiance. You can picture it, I'm sure. Some days it's sitting with legs and arms crossed, complimented by a grimace of disgust on her face. Other days she'll be found lying 180 degrees in the wrong direction- feet on pillow, head angrily stashed under the blanket. On really bad days, she'll be back on the floor in classic tantrum position- face down with her arms and legs stretched out until she looks up with a gruesome Munchian Scream expression lighting up her beautiful face.
Today I was met with opposite-direction-Red on her bed, so I climbed in and calmly stated that I would be available for snuggling for a few minutes if she chose to do so, and that when my time for snuggling was all finished, I would be leaving and not returning. So, it was up to her if she wanted to snuggle with me or just spend the few minutes being grumpy, but that I would NOT be coming back on her bed to snuggle more after that time, even if she threw a fit upon my leaving.
Can you predict how that scene played out?
Oh yeah. She poured on the drama, turned her back on me and spent a few minutes dramatically sighing and humph-ing to herself, all squished up against her bed rail, and I just laid there and tried to think calming thoughts in my head. (i.e. "You can eat Girl Scout cookies once their both asleep and no one will try to take them from you!") I then announced that I had one minute left for snuggling time, and after that one minute, I would say good night. She responded by continuing her opposition, and I literally counted to 60 in my head to be sure that I didn't make this a Mommy's-in-a-rush-so-one-minute-equals-27-seconds kind of moment.
And then it happened. I kissed her forehead and I started to get up and she squealed, "BUT!! I want to snuggle!!"
Dear lord. You've got to be kidding me, right? I did everything by the book, dammit! I stayed calm. I made my expectations clear. I explained what was going to happen. C'mon!
I could have made the next half hour a heck of a lot easier if I had just reclined back on the bed and spent 20 seconds holding her. But I didn't. Nope, I'm a mean mommy, or so I've been told. Instead, I gave her another kiss, briefly reminded her that I told her when snuggle time was, but she chose to squash her face into the bed rail instead, and I got out of her bed. (Okay, okay. I couldn't resist a classic mommy-move: "Now, do you think that tomorrow you will snuggle with me when I say it's snuggle time instead of throwing a fit?" I'm guilty as charged.) I told her I loved her, and I left the room.
And she screamed. And cried. And proclaimed my Terrible Mother status for all the world to hear with her declaration, "I just want to snuggle with you Mommy!!"
But now, 30 minutes and no return visits to her room later, it's mostly quiet. The verbal assault on my heart has subsided, although I do think she may be moving around in her room a little bit if the creaks are any indication.
That, however, is a battle for another day.
This mommy apparently means it,
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