Three Going on Thirteen

Early this morning, starting at around 4:00 a.m., I was woken by my very awake daughter. Apparently, she had seen flashing lights outside her window (entirely plausible with her view of the alley that leads right to the President's house), and she wanted to come sleep in our bed. My sleep hasn't been so great lately, so I said that coming into bed with us wasn't an option. For a thunderstorm or a cold or something actually disturbing, she is welcome, but for early-morning "let's see if I can get Mom up to play with me," I don't think so.

She did not want to go back to her bed, so I said she was welcome to camp out on our floor until "wake-up" time. We went to her room, grabbed a pillow and blanket, got her set-up on the rug at the foot of our bed, and I fell back asleep, thinking that we might have a winning plan.

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!

She woke me again at 4:37 a.m., then at 5:16 a.m. Was that all? NO! "Mama, can we get up now?" was heard at 6:09 a.m., followed by an impatient, "Are you getting out of bed to stay up soon?" at 6:30 a.m. She managed to try to cajole me out of bed one more time at 7:17 a.m. before my husband rose for the day and got her out of the room for some cereal and an episode of some show on PBS Kids. As soon as he was up, I fell into a deep sleep---the kind that comes only when your subconscious mind believes that you won't be woken again because your dear, sweet spouse is sparing you the agony---but was startled out of a dream roughly 20 minutes later, when he was kissing me goodbye for the day and I was on the clock.

Grrr. Not. Enough. Coffee. In. This. World. Grrr.

I'm not going to lie, I got her settled with another television show in the background, took my thyroid medicine (trying to get used to taking it every morning first thing as directed, as you aren't supposed to eat for 30 minutes afterward), then conked out on the couch, half in and half out of consciousness, for the next 25 minutes. Who wins the gold medal for parenting? Oh, yeah, it is me, big time. If I have one word of hope to parents of newborns, it is this---when they get bigger, you might be able to take a catnap in front of them without them burning down the house---maybe. Having Martha Speaks on in the background won't hurt.

While we both survived the morning, we are certainly a tired crew here, and EJ's behavior is becoming more and more indicative of a kid that has been up for eight hours+ before lunch (and for what it's worth, I've been acting like a tired kid from the get-go.) So, when I told the wee one at noon that, yes, we are going to take a much-needed nap on this rainy afternoon and no, I would not be listening to any whining or hysterics or protestations about it, it was a done deal, she seemed to take it in stride. It was a few moments later, though, when the reality of a nap had sunk in for her as I was grilling her ham and cheese sandwich, that I was treated to this exchange.

EJ: "Mom, you are ruining my life."

Me: "WHAT? Could you repeat that?"

EJ: "I think that you are ruining my life, Mom."

Me: "Really? That is not a very nice thing to say, kiddo. Do you know what that means?"

EJ: "Yes."

Me: "Okay, fill me in. How am I ruining your life?"

EJ: "You are saying, 'We are taking a nap and you can't say no,' and I think that is sad and horrible. That is how you are ruining my life, with that nap."

Me: "Ah. Well, good to know."

EJ: "Is that sandwich getting grilly?"

Me: "Yep. Should be done soon...at least before I ruin your life."

EJ: "Oh, Mama, you aren't really ruining my life. Can I have some more delicious lemonade? It is SO DELICIOUS, really, Mama, it just is."

I just can't make this stuff up. I guess when you are eleven days shy of your fourth birthday, your life can be easily ruined (by naps) and easily rescued (by grilled ham and cheese and lemonade). Three going on thirteen is probably more apt, given her expressive vocabulary, and I've already given her some fodder for future therapy. Good thing I'm writing it all down---should be easier for her therapist to connect the dots, if nothing else. EJ's connecting the dots, too, or at least making some. While I was writing this post, she made me this picture, which she says is "All the candy for YOU, Mama, because I love you!"