Tantrum Sandwich

During the week, our days are framed by tantrums. Good, old-fashioned, three-year-old tantrums. Between the hours of 8:00 am and 9:00 p.m. Emma Kate is, for the most part, sweet, fun and hilarious.

But, getting her up in the morning and putting her to bed at night--disastrous. In the mornings, I get ready and then go in try and get her up. She is a heavy sleeper and DOES NOT like it when is told to get up. If she had it her way, she would sleep until 9:00 every morning. Listen, I am not complaining about that part, the weekends are great. But, week days are not great. She moans and rolls over into a downward facing fetal position. It is like when a roly-poly rolls up for protection. I try to pull her night clothes off, and she completely tenses. When I finally get that accomplished, I try to put her day clothes on and she goes limp. She has a routine and she has it mastered. This is usually how we look when we finally get to the car:

or this (from today....)

The nights are not much better. For a child that hates to get up in the morning, you would think she liked sleep. Not so much. For the past 12 months or so, she has not gone to sleep before 9:30, and most nights 10:00. I know, I won't be earning any Mother of the Year awards. We have tried every trick known to man. But really, she just cannot fall asleep before 9:00. Not in a car, not in her bed, not in our bed, not on the couch watching a movie. My friend's kids and my nephews can fall asleep in a car, especially at night. Emma Kate has fallen asleep TWICE in the car since she turned one. TWICE people. And as soon as the car stops, she is wide awake again. So night time routines usually consist of whining, crying and lots of us telling her to GET BACK IN BED when she comes out for the 14th time. Every time she thinks of a valid reason for getting out of bed.

"Mommy, I need somfin to dwink"

"Daddy, my nose is runnin."

"Mommy, I need pants"

"Daddy, I don't want dese pants"

"Mommy, I need my fan on"

"Daddy, I am cold."

Back and forth, back and forth until finally she falls asleep. At 9:30. Or 10:00. Or even 10:30.So, I have come to accept that every week day of my life is like a tantrum sandwich. On the top and the bottom, we have full-blown tantrums and in the middle we have all that three-year-old gooey goodness, and I can live with that.