Worth staying awake for

Last Friday.

It is past midnight. Graham and I are laying together on a double bed at my parent's house, a novelty which so excites him he has resisted sleep for hours. I am weary. Past weary. Cuddles and whispered endearments have long since given way to hissed admonishments.

"Mama?"

"Shush."

"Isn't it soooo fun to sleep on mommy's bed?"

"Shush!"

"Mama?"

"SHUSH!"

"Mama?"

"Go to sleep."

"Sorry mama."

"Sorry 'bout that."

"Mama?."

"We can talk tomorrow."

"But mama-"

"Tomorrow Graham!"

"Mama?"

"Shush Graham, go to sleep!"

"But mama-"

"WHAT?! WHAT IS SO IMPORTANT IT CAN'T WAIT FOR MORNING!"

"Mama, I just wanted to tell you that your hair looks terrific and that you are pretty like a princess."

"Oh...okay...well, thank you."

"Mama?"

"Yes Graham."

"Isn't it sooo fun to sleep on mommy's bed?"

"Yes Graham. Yes, it is."

Losing the battle

Graham loves his babysitter.

She’s my mother-in-law’s best friend. She was at my wedding. She truly adores Graham and it’s obvious he feels the same way.

So it’s all the more frustrating and perplexing that getting him out the door in the mornings these days generally involves a full-blown temper tantrum.

They appear to have become a favorite sport for him. It starts with him turning away, laughing and making silly faces when I first approach with socks and shoes. But giggles and mock protests quickly escalate into full-blown power struggles involving crying, flailing, screaming, kicking and slapping. (On his part, of course, though I have to cop to some occasional screaming of my own).

When Graham is finally wrangled, red-faced and screeching, into his car seat, he’s usually barefoot and without a coat and I am usually close to tears.

Never mind that he generally starts cooing happily from the back seat within minutes, the tone for the day has been set.

And it’s a negative tone, an angry tone: a tone that makes me feel like a failure.

Anyone else feel like they’re losing the battle?

The Face

This is the face of a boy coughing. With a cold.
A boy who has woken screaming throughout the night.
For the last three nights.

The face of a boy who feels sick. Angry and frustrated.



This is the face of a boy who today threw a temper tantrum to rival this one.
A boy who bit mommy. Hard. Again.
A boy who threw up on mommy. Twice.

And yet.

This is the face of a boy who makes my breath catch in my throat.
And reminds me of how fortunate I am to have had such a terrible day.