I've been to RUSSIA?
Bedtime...not again, please!
It's been trying. Alys has a really stuffy nose and she does not suffer in silence. Fits and screams have become the norm in the last new midnights. And she hates it when I try to hold her, pat her, comfort in ANY way. She really just wants to lay there and throw her fit. She wakes up up to 10 times doing this. Getting her to sleep seems like an endless battle to keep my sanity.
Tonight is the 4th night and two fits so far. It keeps Keith up. There's a lot of whining. Keith has started to DREAD bedtime, because that all prevailing peace that used to fall upon the room at about 9PM comes at about 11PM. Yes folks, it just happened. 6 minutes ago.
So last night I decide Keith and I have to cope. We (as in I) have to do something to get over that horrible dread of the lights going out and the tightrope walk between peace and war beginning. Therapy for two. Guidance, Lord, GUIDANCE!
KaCHING! Guidance comes: I'll tell him stories from, well, my life.
"Hey, Keith, we'll do something special tonight. I'll tell you my own stories of my life."
"Uhh, Mom, can we have dramas?"
WHAT? Oh my god what is wrong with me? Am I THAT uninteresting to my own son ALREADY? I mean, yeah, maybe when he's 12, or I dunno, 8? But god, please, not at FOUR! I mean, this kid adores me and cannot sit close enough to me (ask Ambie, she'll tell you). But no, he'd rather have dramas that he's heard a gazillion times.
Something must be done. For a moment the thought came to me of a desperate girl trying to prove to her wanderlust boyfriend that she really is more interesting than THEY are. It's a perfect analogy.
I smirk. I can do this.
Deep breath.
"Alright Keith, Mommy will start telling you a little bit about when she went to Russia by stormy sea on a ship with an anchor on the side and the engine stopped in the middle of the night..."
Little ears perk up.
"...and if you get bored, we'll put on a drama, ok?"
Keith: "Mom, did you say, storm?"
"No, I said stormEE, and I almost threw up all over the deck."
"What? You DID throw up, or you ALMOST threw up?"
Riveted now, eh? Alys whines. I go to give her stern looks and a hug. Keith panics, "Mom, the story, don't forget."
Oh, yess. I make him wait. Oh, YESS!
And the rest is history. It's going to take a long time to get around to telling him all my stories (especially because I have to answer all his questions, which his entire brain is made of), but that's perfect. This was last night, and tonight I was able to bribe him with it to do just about anything.
In the meantime, memories are flooding my mind, details I had totally forgotten are coming back to me. It would be a shame to lose them all. It's fun pulling out all these adventures we say we will tell our grandkids. I didn't think I would need them yet but for now, it's the perfect bedtime bribe.
And yes, people. I know that it's kind of pathetic to be all excited about capturing the fancy of a FOUR year old.
But like the girlfriend, I'm just hoping it lasts.
It's been trying. Alys has a really stuffy nose and she does not suffer in silence. Fits and screams have become the norm in the last new midnights. And she hates it when I try to hold her, pat her, comfort in ANY way. She really just wants to lay there and throw her fit. She wakes up up to 10 times doing this. Getting her to sleep seems like an endless battle to keep my sanity.
Tonight is the 4th night and two fits so far. It keeps Keith up. There's a lot of whining. Keith has started to DREAD bedtime, because that all prevailing peace that used to fall upon the room at about 9PM comes at about 11PM. Yes folks, it just happened. 6 minutes ago.
So last night I decide Keith and I have to cope. We (as in I) have to do something to get over that horrible dread of the lights going out and the tightrope walk between peace and war beginning. Therapy for two. Guidance, Lord, GUIDANCE!
KaCHING! Guidance comes: I'll tell him stories from, well, my life.
"Hey, Keith, we'll do something special tonight. I'll tell you my own stories of my life."
"Uhh, Mom, can we have dramas?"
WHAT? Oh my god what is wrong with me? Am I THAT uninteresting to my own son ALREADY? I mean, yeah, maybe when he's 12, or I dunno, 8? But god, please, not at FOUR! I mean, this kid adores me and cannot sit close enough to me (ask Ambie, she'll tell you). But no, he'd rather have dramas that he's heard a gazillion times.
Something must be done. For a moment the thought came to me of a desperate girl trying to prove to her wanderlust boyfriend that she really is more interesting than THEY are. It's a perfect analogy.
I smirk. I can do this.
Deep breath.
"Alright Keith, Mommy will start telling you a little bit about when she went to Russia by stormy sea on a ship with an anchor on the side and the engine stopped in the middle of the night..."
Little ears perk up.
"...and if you get bored, we'll put on a drama, ok?"
Keith: "Mom, did you say, storm?"
"No, I said stormEE, and I almost threw up all over the deck."
"What? You DID throw up, or you ALMOST threw up?"
Riveted now, eh? Alys whines. I go to give her stern looks and a hug. Keith panics, "Mom, the story, don't forget."
Oh, yess. I make him wait. Oh, YESS!
And the rest is history. It's going to take a long time to get around to telling him all my stories (especially because I have to answer all his questions, which his entire brain is made of), but that's perfect. This was last night, and tonight I was able to bribe him with it to do just about anything.
In the meantime, memories are flooding my mind, details I had totally forgotten are coming back to me. It would be a shame to lose them all. It's fun pulling out all these adventures we say we will tell our grandkids. I didn't think I would need them yet but for now, it's the perfect bedtime bribe.
And yes, people. I know that it's kind of pathetic to be all excited about capturing the fancy of a FOUR year old.
But like the girlfriend, I'm just hoping it lasts.
posted by aiko at Thursday, August 18, 2005
6 Comments:
If you're a good a story teller as you are a writer, you won't have any problem keeping his attention...Luv ya
Aich, I felt so bad. I don't even remember what story I told you. I wish I had done it more.
Who's jjj?
It's me. Your mom.
I LOVE YOU, MOM!!!!!
My favorite stories you told me were about:
1. When your mom caught you doing something naughty, like lying about the sewing machine, and the baby bottles with the teeth marks on them (from you). Ha ha. I am laughing now.
2. When your dad played those mean tricks on you, but then it was always topped off by the story of when he panicked in the middle of the night during an earthquake and grabbed a pillow, thinking it was you, ran outside, and held on to a tiny tree.
I always loved your stories, Mom. Oh, and also when you would play guitar and sing us to sleep...I remember I loved the song Starlit Skyway. I thought you had the prettiest voice.
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