Have you heard of the book Go the F**k to Sleep? Have you actually watched/listened to the narrated version done by Samuel Jackson? He is the connoisseur of the word f**k so it makes it so much funnier. If you haven’t heard of it, read it, listened to it…. here’s the link for you:
Now I’m obviously mentioning this because I needed my kids to go the f**k to sleep. Today I was pushed to all of my mental limits and bed time could not come fast enough. I know plenty of moms who would handle my child’s difficult days with grace and poise. I want to be one of those moms. But by bedtime I’m hyperventilating from my anxiety and can’t take one more intentional rule breaking.
I want this to be my truth.
The morning actually went fairly decent. Both the little ones napped early and I was able to get through some spring cleaning – despite the fact that it apparently is NOT spring here in Minnesota, but rather Snowmageddon.
BUT THEN he. woke. up.
He punched the baby. He pooped in his underwear. Very intentionally might I add. He dumped my water out. Dumped cereal out EVERYWHERE. Was just being a very difficult toddler.
Then we headed out to Blooming Portraits Photography Studio for Oliver’s 9 month photo shoot. I am OBSESSED with getting photos taken. My family hates it. I don’t give a rat’s ass. O was amazing. He smiled, he posed, he took FANTASTIC photos just to make mommy as happy as could be – it may have been unintentional but still. G was able to keep it together until the end of the shoot. And then it all spiraled out of control. It was small things at first, ya know? Not putting on his boots, not coming when I asked him to, not putting his jacket on, not getting into his carseat, screaming when I buckled him into his carseat.
We went grocery shopping because I am a gluten for punishment apparently. Supermom to ALDI! I spent maybe 15 minutes in the store. I grabbed the bare necessities. As we were leaving he was crawling on the conveyor belt, climbing on the bagging area and throwing a balloon at anyone who walked by.
When we got home, he locked himself in the bathroom while I was nursing the baby. He sprayed the entire room down with cleaner. But I didn’t yell. I did what I imagine all the good moms of the world do. I took him to another room, redirected him and I cleaned it up. No yelling. He still cried. And hell, my bathroom that I was already planning to clean, actually got clean.
The finished product of the bathroom he destroyed.
He continued to do as many jerky toddler things as he could think of until I finally felt my sanity snap. So I put him to bed. I told him I loved him, put him in bed and locked the child lock on the handle as I shut the door. I will not do the potty trick, or the water trick, or the adorable pouty lip trick.
Tonight he can just Go the F**k to Sleep.
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