Eating My Words

You may recall how boastful I was, just a few short posts ago, because my almost-two-year-old had moved into his big boy bed, easy as you please. The honeymoon lasted all of about 48 hours, and since that time we've had various escape attempts, lots of whimpering, a smattering of crying, and yes, even some fit-throwing. Griffin has truly always gone to bed and down for naps so easily. I swear. Now, though, he wants to be rocked, or he wants to "rub hair", or have a puppet show...or anything else he can come up with to stall out on me. It makes me crazy because I much prefer put him down wide awake, so that he can put himself to sleep. I feel as though he gets better rest that way, and well, I just think it is better for him.

Steve, molly-coddling his boy a couple of weeks ago, because he is The Best Daddy in the World

Anyway, we are getting there - - we are having days here and there when he goes down without a struggle. So, I am hopeful that this too shall pass. Today though....oh my. Today my boys were a couple of hyenas. On crack. They were wresting, bickering, crying, stomping, shouting, etc., ALL. DAY. LONG. By 5:00 p.m. I'd really had it, so as you can imagine, when bed time rolled around at 7:30 p.m., I was in no mood to mess around. After Griffin got out of bed for the third time, which was followed by his older brother asking if you could have a "little snack", I did what any mother who is over-tired, and whose husband is out of town until next Monday would do:

I threw them both in my bed, where I didn't hear another peep out of either one of them. Sometimes, you've gotta do what you've gotta do!