They Like to Drag Me to the End of My Rope

A friend of mine asked me this past weekend how the kids and I were enjoying our summer this year. One of my replies, "They like to drag me to the end of my rope and then when they sense my vulnerability with exhaustion they go in for the kill!"

Dramatic? Me? Never! Clearly, you haven't read my blogs! But it's obvious my little duo has formed a secret society. They travel together, talk in code, and seem to do everything as a team. As a mom, I'm thrilled they're finally getting along for more than two minutes.

But just like Dr. Seuss's Thing 1 and Thing 2, they’ve started copying each other. One screams, they both scream. One runs, they both run. One refuses a bath, the other follows suit. It's interesting, infuriating, hilarious, exhausting, and enlightening all at once.

And oh, how they love pressing my buttons. Now that I'm in my 40s, I've got the patience of a saint compared to my 20s and 30s. But heaven help me when my adorable duo realizes they've got me right where they want me—dangling by a thread!

It's like they want me at my weakest. My defenses are down. My calmness is walking out the door. And now I'm left with this pack who want to defy all things including going to bed on time during school nights.

My daughter has negotiated staying up late on Friday and Saturday, which, of course, aren't school nights. Her brother is just along for the ride—if big sister wants it, so does he.

Tonight, I found myself in a heated debate over bath versus shower. It's hair night, so a shower would be ideal to wash out the shampoo and conditioner. BUT NOOOO, she insists on a bath. Then she just stands in the tub with the water running, chatting about who knows what.

After two minutes of watching water swirl down the drain, I finally say, "Please sit down and take a bath." Her response? "Oh yeah," as if she forgot that's what she was supposed to do. She knows EXACTLY what she's doing—she's a master of delay tactics. A minute here, a minute there, and suddenly it's 30 minutes past bedtime.

Some days, I feel like a guitar string about to snap. Other days, I can laugh at their antics. Tonight, when she slithered off the couch like a snake to delay bedtime, I found myself saying, "Enough is enough. Get upstairs NOW!" Naturally, my firm voice only made her more determined.

My only saving grace for the nighttime routine is making the threat that I will pick out the book to read. That seems to get her moving just a little bit faster up the stairs. In turn, her brother moves a little faster too.

I've said it before -- going from one child to two is like jumping from one to a thousand. They're a united front, a duo, a pair, a pack. And they know exactly how to either get their way or drive me up the wall in the process.

Stay strong fellow moms!

--Amber