Tough Love

When I was a child I used to have screaming fits for no reason. 5 hours at time. My poor parents... this week, I came to understand how they must of felt.

Last week my husband was out of town on a business and to my daughters it felt like a century. Rylee was first, she went to bed and awoke an hour later screaming. I went in and soothed her, comforted her, even resorted to giving her a bottle. My attempts were thwarted with pushes, screams and a bottle being thrown at me. Her cries soon escalated to sobs, and then to hysteria. After 40 minutes of hysterics, and my reminders that she was in fact okay, changed, loved, and fed, I attempted yet again to sooth her. My loving attempt was met with a quiet hug (a sigh of relief from me), a shove and scream. It was then the rude reality hit, I am not her father...

After 45 minutes of intermittent sobbing and hysterics I called the next best thing, my mother. As I dial, Rylee did what I thought was unattainable, she went beyond hysterics, into irrational screams of hysteria. When my mom answered it was all I could to hold myself together. Tired and quietly, I said "She doesn't want me." Lovingly, my mom relayed the story of me and my fits. The only thing that worked, she said, was my dad swatting me on the bottom. She said he used to go in and pop me, not hard enough to leave a red mark, but enough to grab my attention, and leave. She said I would sob for 5 minutes and go to sleep. She gently told me that I had two options, pour myself a glass of wine and let Rylee cry it out, or go in and tell her that that was enough. That she needed to go to sleep before she wakes her sister again and pop her on the bottom. 15 minutes later, I decided to try the latter.

Breathing in deep, remembering what my mom said, I went into my daughter's room. At the sight of me the sobs worsened, and Haylee awoke and began climbed her crib crying. I picked up Rylee and popped her once, apparently not hard enough because she got mad. Pushing from my arms, I held on and leaned into Haylee's crib. I soothed Haylee and laid her back into her crib, telling her that mommy had Rylee. I then turned back to Rylee, and like my mother did to me, told her that she was alright and that that was enough and popped her once more on the thigh. She screamed, this time harder than before. I laid her down in the crib, gave her binky, covered her with her blanket and left, feeling utterly horrible.

5 minutes later, she was asleep. She slept the rest of the night.

Tonight was Haylee's turn. Haylee hasn't been sleeping well due to incoming teeth, so I tried to be understanding. At 8:00 pm, she began bouncing in her bed, our warning that she was awake. 5 minutes later cries rang out. I quickly took her in my arms and told her that she was okay, changed her diaper, and realized that I forgotten to give her cold medicine. We quietly walked out into the dark house and got the medicine. I loved on her, turned the heating pad on under her favorite blanket and rocked her. After several minutes her body became heavy, so I stood quietly and set her in the crib. No sooner did I put her down than she let out a blood curdling scream.

I left.

After a couple of minute I reevaluated the evening. I quickly realized that while the "eating with a real fork" training was going better than expected , she didn't get that much in tonight. And I forgot to compensate adequately with the evening snack. So I prepared and gave her a bottle. She chugged. It wasn't long before screams for "Daddy" rang out. Quietly my husband went in, sat with her, rocked with her, and laid her down. He gave her the remains of her discarded bottle and quietly left. Like before, our few minutes of silence were met with screams and hysteria. An hour and a half later I resorted to "the pop."

Breathing deeply, I attempted to fortify myself for what was to come, a loving tap to quiet a restless child. As I arose from the bed, I contemplated what I was going to say to her. As I opened her door I was met with a child who was too tired to soothe herself. Upon picking her up she rubbed her eyes and cried. I repeated what I said to her sister just a few nights before and popped her on the thigh. She sobbed. My heart broke. She refused to be laid down and sat indian style with the binky in one hand, as I laid the blanket across her lap, sobbing as I left.

3 minute later she was asleep.

Good Intentions

There comes a point in time where a parent purchases a table for their children to use as their own dinner table, as a place to color, draw, and play with play dough. My girls got one for eating, but they could never grasp the concept of eating at the table, so we decided to make them a big girl room. We pulled out the changing table, and replaced it with their big girl table, moved their amouir to the other side of the room, and put in a bookshelf filled with dolls, books, and toys. On the table I placed their two favorite puzzles, which recently they have love to sit and play with. And then it happened...

A crash. A scream. Silence.

A frozen baby on the floor and the other looking perplexed. The sudden "no climbing" rule became reality. In the silent confusion, I couldn't find her, I couldn't see her. And there on the floor between the table chair and the heater, laid Rylee in a frozen scream. As my mother rushed in to help, I quickly swept up Rylee and began examining her limbs, her head, her body, and then she screamed. Blood spilled out of her mouth. The amount of blood that was coming out of her mouth, now onto her shirt and me, indicated the possibility of missing teeth. Now in the kitchen, I quickly placed a paper towel in her mouth, and all her teeth became visible.

As Haylee danced to the Wiggles, sweetly oblivious as to what was going on, Rylee cried. After a couple of attempts to hold the ice cube rag on her lip, it became evident that the bleeding wasn't going to stop. Handing her over to my Mom, who was much better suited to hold her down, than I at the moment, I ran to get an Earl Grey Tea bag, wet it, and gave it to her to hold on Rylee's lip. A few moment's passed and the blood lessened. That was when I saw it, the blood coming from under her lip. She had bitten through her lip. Adjusting the tea bag to now cover both the top and bottom cuts. After a minute or two the bleeding had stopped, and Rylee stopped crying. I examined the lower hole and saw that her four bottom teeth came up and meet her top two teeth in her bottom lip.

The chairs have now been removed from their table, and sitting lessons began again on smaller safer chairs in the living room.

Even with our good intentions, life happens.

Sentences

My daughters will be turning 18 month olds in a couple of weeks, and they are not only starting to talk back in a more clear tone, but they are using sentences! My favorites so far are:

"But I want to play."
"I don't want to."
"Hey," Rylee says as she peeks her head around the corner, "I'm ready to go."
"That's silly!"
"Sit down!"
Looking at a barking dog, Rylee holds her finger up to her lips and say "Hush!" and then points at the barking dog!
"Get down!"
"I know! Get down!"

LOL.... and that is just the beginning!