(This post is dedicated to Angie, who may be the only faithful reader I have. Thanks, Ang.)
My husband will be the first to tell you that I have a really, really, REALLY hard time saying
no when it comes to the boys. To me, there are two kinds of
no. The first, is when your kids are being bratty, rude, mean, disrespectful, or unruly. I'm actually
good at that kind of no. In fact, I think I'm even
better at that kind of no than hubby is.
Just don't tell him I said so.
The type of
no I struggle with, involves giving the boys anything and everything I own. My iphone, the food on my plate, the tea I just sat down to enjoy....the list is endless. At the drop of a hat, what was once mine, has quickly become theirs. The thing I miss most?
My bed.
Imagine being sound asleep, and having an
adorable little boy crawl into bed with you and begin to snuggle. They get right up close, and press their tiny feet onto your legs. They sigh a deep sigh, for they are now safe and warm. You look at their precious face, and wonder how you ever got so lucky. You cover them up and snuggle back.
It's bliss.
It's bliss that lasts 5 minutes.
The next several hours until daylight are seldom restful
or enjoyable.
I've been slapped
smacked
kicked
punched
poked
elbowed
and kneed.
I've been bloodied and bruised, and occasionally, I get peed on.
There is one boy in particular, that comes to my bed at 11:30 every night. He's sweet as sugar as he settles in, but once he falls back into a slumber, he quickly turns into Chuck Norris and the abuse begins. Last night, he elbowed me in the back of the head three times. "Logan!" I said. "What are you doing to Mommy?"
"I have to hurt you." he replied. "You tattled on me." And then he rolled over.
In the past week, I've resorted to sleeping on the floor, and have even gone in search of the many empty beds that lie unclaimed in the boys' rooms. I take what I can get.
But I feel like I can
finally take no more. I'm tired. I'm achy. I'm grouchy.
You see, if hubby had it his way, he'd march them back to their beds each and every time they tried to claim territory on ours. However, hubby could sleep through a cyclone, and is rarely aware of our midnight visitors. That leaves the dirty work up to me. What am I supposed to do? Stop them at bedside and 'tattle' to their father, who will scoop them up and return them where they came from? In my mind, I can see their sad, watery eyes staring back at me as he carried them out of our room.
I'm not built to withstand that type of image. And if I can't even
picture what it would be like, I'm surely not strong enough to make it a reality.
Which is why I feel as though I have no choice, but to continue being the punching bag for my boys, and the bad dreams they bring with them. I'd rather be hurt, than hurt them.
So if you text or call me, and I don't answer for a few days....or weeks, my boys must have my phone.
And if you ladies have been searching for my favorite beauty product
(Well-Rested Eye Concealer), and you can't seem to find it, I apologize. I must have bought the last one.
This mom is far from well-rested.
If you're reading this, and you've proudly reclaimed
your bed, do me a solid and tell me how you did it.
YAWN....please?