understanding

I hate bedtime.  Not my bedtime mind you, the kids bedtime.  Actually, I don't know a parent that really likes bedtime.  Let's face it, it's the end of the day we are all tired and yet we have one more job to do before we can actually rest.  It's a nasty business but someone has to do it.

I think my biggest hang-up with bedtime, besides all of the screwing around, is the stalling.  I just don't understand the stalling.  Why would you not want to go to sleep.  I personally love to sleep.  I would do more of it if I could.  My two youngest love to stall.  I think it is some type of competition between the two.  (Let's see if we can really drive Mom insane!)

I spend at least 15 minutes going back and forth between bedrooms answering questions and reassuring worried minds.  Emma I am sure does not want to miss anything.  So  being the youngest  she is always worried someone will get something, an infinitesimally small something EXTRA that she won't.

I am forever being called into her room to answer vague and strangely off the wall questions.  Such as...

"Mom?  What are we doing tomorrow?"  she'll ask.  This is pretty standard and my reply, which is also standard is "I don't know yet. Or I don't have anything planned.  Is there something you need me to do for you?"  Usually she says, "Okay, I was just wondering"

Sometimes I get called into their rooms to have them say, "Mom?"
"Yes, Emma/Jack?"  "Um?  I forgot?"  That one always makes my eye start to twitch.

Last night Emma called me in shortly after being scolded by Dad.  Never a good thing.  She looked a little teary and she said very rapidly, "Mom?"
Deep breath. "Yes, Emma?"
"Sometimes when I need to talk,  I need to talk to you not Dad.  I mean there are things that I can talk to you about that I cannot talk to him about.  Do you understand?"
 "Yes, I understand." I replied only slightly annoyed and  a little more concerned.
She went on. "Girls have things they need to talk with their mom's about.  Dads just don't always understand girl things, you know?"
"Is there something you need Emma?"  I enquired.
 "No.  I am not finished mom!  Just let me finish."  I sigh, sit down on the side of the bed to wait,  I could see this is going nowhere fast.  "So when I call you I need you to come and not Dad.  He just doesn't understand me like you do.  For example, if I had a hangnail I could tell you about it and you would say, something like, 'why don't you go down and get clippers.' or ' do you want me to trim it?'  You understand these problems, dad doesn't.  Tonight when I called him in and told him I had a hangnail he just looked at me and said, "Okay." and walked out. "What kind of  answer is that?"