Thursday, January 3, 2013

Mama is Mean

Last night, as is usual, Olivia came to join me in my little twin bed at about 11:15. She snuggled in, resting on my arm and went right back to sleep.

I had a blanket over my eyes to block the light of the alarm clock. Why do they make those numbers so big and so bright? Ugh!!

About an hour later, I rolled away from her, my arm aching from being straight and having the weight of her head on it.

Ten minutes after I rolled away from her, Olivia sat up and asked, “Can you help me find my ballet slipper? I lost it.”

And, well, I’m ashamed to admit that I sort of lost it too. I became irrationally angry when she made that request.

I was tired, it was just after midnight and I was so angry that I was awake. I muttered, “Why do you keep waking me up? Why is that slipper that important? Go back to sleep!”

Then I stormed from the room (I’m so very mature.) I made my way to the bathroom by the glaring light of the alarm clock.

And once in there, I heard Olivia burst into tears. Damn. She threw herself off the bed and followed me into the bathroom, wiping her tears and sniffling.

At first, I was still so angry I didn’t even want to look at her. She’s six years old. I think she should be sleeping through the freaking night without any help from me. I think that waking me up to find a ballet slipper that had fallen between the bed and the wall to nestle on the floor beneath the bed was a bad choice on her part.

But I also know she’s not a typical six year old. And she’s used to me being more pleasant in the night (most of the time.) She didn’t know that the simple request would make me lose my mind.

I picked her up and carried her back to bed. But I didn’t snuggle her close or even wipe her tears for her. I just muttered, “Go back to sleep.” I said this after I fished her ballet slipper out from under the bed.

An hour after that, I left her in the twin bed and went to the mattress on the floor. There I slept fitfully for about two hours before she joined me. At that point, she told me her pull up was disgusting.

I told her to take it off, then. And the guilt hit. I rolled over to find her taking it off. I helped and then did pull her close, my hands warming the chilled skin on her legs.

I want to be a good mom. I want to be kind and loving and sympathetic.

But I also want to sleep. She’s six years old. Waking me up four times in the night is not okay, not anymore.

Tonight, I’m going to try and lay down some rules and then I’ll try to be kindly consistent with them. I don’t want to be mean in the night. I don’t want to make my little girl cry. But I do want her to sleep and only come to me when she really, really needs me, like if she’s sick or if she’s had a bad dream. Finding a lost ballet slipper at 12:30am is not an emergency in my book. But I do realize it was one to her.

So it continues.

And yes, I need to get a new alarm clock, one that doesn’t have enormous, insanely bright numbers. I’ve had this one for years and it’s only in the past month or so that the light and size of the numbers has bothered me. I must be getting cranky in my old age.

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