Yesterday’s Daily Prompt was:
We have gotten ourselves into the habit where I pretty much sleep with my 15-month-old daughter every night. I’m not trying to promote or disparage the benefits or detriments of co-sleeping; I’m just stating that this is where we are right now. Even though my eldest slept with us for a while, until his brother was on the way, and then his brother would end up sleeping with us half the night, right until his sister was on the way; this feels different. Maybe it’s because we don’t have an end in sight (no more sibling will be on the way!) but also because I’m sleeping with her in her room. Her room was/is the guest room, with a comfy double bed, and it’s so easy to lay down next to her each night and drift off.
That is where I was early this morning when I hear noise and movement coming from my sons’ room. Each morning it’s like this. I try to wake up before they do, sometimes setting alarm so that I can get up and out of my daughter’s room before they come in. They run on tiptoe into the room, holding at least one stuffed animal. They climb into the bed I’m sharing with my daughter, and I whisper “go to my big bed,” or on the weekends, “go see Dad.” In response they normally yell “WHAT DID YOU SAY?”
Today it was my oldest. I’m trying to decided whether to use his actual name or not in this blog. I can see pros and cons for both. Other parent bloggers, what do you guys do? Right now, I’ll call him Moose.
It’s hard for me to write about my kids, not because I don’t know where to start, but I don’t know where to stop. Moose is 5-years-old, turning 6 on Valentine’s Day. He frequently treats us to fits of temper and whining, which I don’t think is atypical for kids his age. Kindergarten started this year, and for the first 30 days he complained the whole walk down to school and was in tears by 7:00 each night. He hates losing, frequently shouts “THAT’S NOT FAIR!” and I don’t think he accepts that I may actually know what’s best for him, at least when it comes to dietary concerns and sleep requirements. He’s a lot like how I was as a kid, which is what my mother kept wishing for me.
He’s also a sensitive kid, easily sent into bursts of giggling or fits of anxiety. One day a year or so ago, we cleaned his room, organized his books, dusted the furniture, while he played downstairs. He started to throw a fit about not getting his way about something or other, and we sent him upstairs to calm down. One minute in, the whining and yelling stopped, to be replaced with quiet sniffles. His dad went up to see what was wrong, and Moose hugged him and said, “my room, it’s just so beautiful.” (An anecdote which reminds me of Moose’s sensitivity, and that I don’t clean nearly enough.) He worries that he is dressed appropriately, that he’s doing things “the way the teacher telled him to.” He hates being late. He’s super supportive of his little brother, praising his pictures and writing. He’s fascinated by all the new things his baby sister is learning and doing. He has told me, when I’ve been in an off mood, “Mom, don’t be sad, the world is wonderful.” Actually, personality-wise he takes a lot after me. This makes me happy for him, because hopefully he’ll always think that the world is wonderful; but also sad, because I’ve been down the anxiety road and know that sometimes you have to really remind yourself of that fact.