Drive Time.

We, The Bubba and I, are at hour 1.5 in the bedtime routine. Meaning I have been attempting to get him to go to bed for approximately one and a half hours. I know, I know...I'm a sucker when it comes to bedtime. And it's something that has come about in the past 6 months. For the first 2 years of his life, he went to bed and stayed there 9 out of 10 times with no problems. Now he has learned the age old trick of "Delay". And the determination with which he pursues this is amazing.
I watched an episode of "World's Strictest Parents" tonight, the show where bratty teenagers go to live with a family where the parents don't take any crap from bratty teenagers. And I realized I'd better straighten up my parenting before he's older and he starts acting like some of the fool teenagers on this show. You know the ones. The kids that will tell you their leg is broken and so they can't possibly put their dirty laundry in the laundry hamper. Or that they will just pass right out if they have to make their bed.
Poor little Bubba has no idea that all of his "book", "milk", "pee" is creating a strict parent monster out of me and I will happily tell him when he is 16 and sullen because I won't let him get that tattoo he justhastohavecauseallofmyfriendshavethempleasemom! that if he had just gone to bed without any delay when he was 2, I would just drive him myveryownself to the tattoo parlor.

Time Change Smime Change

The last time change had Bubba up so screwed up I felt like I had a newborn, so I approached this morning like mission impossible. After the requisite diaper change (performed lovingly by the man of the house) I laid perfectly still for 28 minutes, then ever so slowly raised my head only to see a wee arm flailing about in the crib. Head back down and shallow breathing for another 12 minutes. Sliding silently from under the covers I slid to the floor in a move that could only be described as catlike and steathily crawled on hands and knees past the crib to the door. Opening it as quietly as I could, I slid through the miniscule opening only to come face to butt with Yellow Dog's tail which started wagging with ferocity in anticipation of some new game. After making a horrible shush face at her I slid the lower half of my body out of the doorway and popped up like a drunk jack in the box. Yellow Dog not having gotten the hint that this was a mission, not a game jumped up and proceeded to beat the armoir like a drum with her tail. As my heart stopped for fear that the noise would wake Bubba I quickly shut the bedroom door. Looked at Yellow Dog with murder in my eyes and stood statue like for 2 minutes. 

It worked! Ah sweet alone time. And worth every cent of my diginity.