This is significant, this moment of peace and tranquility, because since Kiddo #1 started school, her hearing and vision have taken a dive down the toilet. Oh, not in the "Call the Doctor!" kind, but in the "Holy FRICK I'm moving to Antarctica. Call me when she is back to normal," sort.
Take this morning when she sneezed three times in the span of 10 minutes. All three of those sneezes required, REQUIRED, two baby wipes each. Had we been out of tissue, this would have seriously been a catastrophe. So, I said, "Honey, why don't you stay home from school today?"
She, in the fashion I usually reserve for 14-year old girls, recoiled in extreme horror and ran screaming and crying to her bedroom, where upon she threw herself onto her bed, bawling and wailing phrases such as "You HATE me!" and "Why are you trying to RUIN my LIFE?"
Kiddo #2 and I looked at each other, as if to confirm that her reaction could not possibly pertain to what I'd said, and I slowly head toward Ground Zero.
"Honey?"
"I'm not talking to you." Clearly.
"Ok. So I'm not sure what just happened, but you've got to get it together if you want to go to school today."
"I SAID I WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL!"
"Ok. First: time out for screaming at me like that. Second: once you've calmed down we'll figure out what's what."
I left her in there, yelling about I don't even know what, and went back to the baby. I really should have "The Baby" <--- written like that, since he just turned one, and he's the size of most two and a half year olds. It's unbelievable. Kiddo #2 drank four litres of homo milk in a 6 day span, last week. For those of you outside Canada, that's a freakin' lot of high fat milk.
When she finally got herself together, I walked in and she said, "Momma, I'm sorry for the way I acted. It's just that I want to go to school, real bad." (if you're wondering whether she really said that, I assure you, that's verbatim.)
So I said, "Ok. All I said was maybe you wanted to stay home because you're so congested. But, if you really want to go to school, I'll write a note in your planner telling the teacher how you're feeling and to call me if she thinks you should go home." Truthfully, I wanted to write that in her planner so that the teacher wouldn't call Children's Aid on me for being negligent.
Kiddo #1's eyes got big again, she sneezed (we cleaned that up) and then, once we were all settled in the sneeze department, she yelled, "I SAID I WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL!" and stomped back to her room.
(you may not wonder why we miss the bus in the morning)
I walked (calmly) to her room, opened the door and said, "That's what I said I was doing. Now you have another time out for yelling and for talking to me that way. You will not be riding the bus this morning because by the time you get your time out done with, it will be too late."
I walked away feeling smug because I know that my child will do whatever it takes so that she can ride the bus to and from school. There's something about sitting in a giant vehicle without a seat belt that she finds intoxicating. Riding the bus is like a drug for her. I don't remember it being that exciting, but apparently it is.
Not taking the bus, in case you're wondering, also opens up a good 20 minutes of extra time in the morning, since I can't drop her off at school until after 9am. So I waited for her to calm down. Then she had her second time out (all before 8:40! New record I think.) and we talked about how she needs to use her ears better. She, admitting I am the supreme ruler of the universe, calmed herself down and even got to where she could giggle at her hilarious inability to hear what I was saying.
I put the baby in the car (he was in his highchair this whole time, so don't worry and call Children's Aid on me for negligence) and came back in to find Kiddo #1 looking for her shoes-- her shoes that were directly in front of her. I actually thought she was being hilarious and playing some funny joke on me because there were her shoes, in front of her.
I looked at her and sweetly asked if she'd looked around the kitchen yet. She said, "Yes! I've looked in my room, in the bathroom, in the kitchen, in the hallway, in your room and your bathroom!"
I said, "Are you sure you've looked everywhere?"
She said, "Yes! Help me or I'll be late for school!"
So I said that I'd give her one more chance. If she didn't find her shoes before 8-5-0 on the clock, she would lose her movies and TV for three days.
Harsh? Yes.
But, I suggested to her that if she couldn't see her shoes, she probably couldn't see anything on the TV anyway, so she surely wouldn't miss the action. Oh yes. That felt good.
Anyway, I took the baby some milk and came back in the house to find Kiddo #1 still frantically searching for her shoes, and now also needing a Kleenex possibly more than she needed her shoes. I gave her a tissue. Then, I stood in the kitchen, by the table, behind her shoes so as to not hamper her ability to see them, and called to her.
"Kiddo #1, could you come into the kitchen?"
She raced in and asked, "Have you found my shoes?"
I said, "Yes. I have. So, I'm going to give you one more chance to find your shoes before I go get them and you lose your movies. You need to look in your room, the living room, and the kitchen. They are in one of those places."
I kid you not: she took off, looked in both those rooms and returned to the kitchen with a big, pouty lip. She sauntered over to me and was about to throw herself at the mercy of the court when she tripped over her shoes. "MOMMA! MOMMA! I found my shoes! I did it!"
Oh yes. I smiled sincerely (despite my overwhelming disbelief) and told her to get the shoes on quickly so we could get to school on time.
When we got there I got out of the car, crossed the street with her (with baby on my hip) and as soon as I got to the actual school property, she turned around and said, "Momma. You can't come back here. It's for kids only." She kissed me on the cheek and trucked off to her big life all by herself.
I took a deep breath and remembered that, if all else fails, and I need her to stay a kid another day or two, I can hide her stuff in the middle of the floor and play with her all day. But not too often. Just often enough.
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