We’ve been having a few rough mornings over at Casa de Katie. Come to think of it, the past few nights haven’t been too awesome, either. Usually our evenings will start out just fine. Last night was great, in fact. We had hot wings, did homework and showers, and then had an impromptu dance party. Then the girls filtered into the TV room to watch 30 minutes of TV before bedtime while I…well let’s just say I won’t deny continuing the dance party all by myself. Ahem.
All’s good, right? Dance parties! Laughing! Arts and crafts in front of the TV! And then it was almost time for bed and I walked into the living room. There were papers and markers and pieces of tape every where. “Pick up,” I intoned, not exactly happy because “Why Can’t You Pick Up?” has been a theme this week. I swear, I feel like I’m the only one who knows where the trash can is. Bee-girl was pretty good about it – she started picking up her mess, at least. Of course, she forgot her dirty, inside-out socks, and some scraps of paper, and a few other things, but at least she was moving. Gracie was glued to her spot on the floor.
“Gracie,” I warned, a little louder. Ignoring mama has been an even bigger theme.
“But it’ll be over in five minutes!” she pleaded. And it’s true – the show she was watching did end at 8:55 p.m. rather reliably.
“Okay,” I relented, “but then you’ve got to move it. You need to clean up and brush your teeth and get in bed. Nine o’clock bedtime is supposed to mean that you’re in bed at nine.” I have a feeling my mini-speech fell on deaf ears. Because that’s how it goes lately.
Her show ended and of course Gracie took her time. Which irritated me. Which led to warnings and raised voices and grumbly kiddos. And then once they were actually in bed, no one could stop arguing or leave their lights off. So much so, that they might have lost bed time tonight.
Which brings us back to this morning. I had hoped that we could start fresh…but Gracie pitched a toddler-worthy meltdown when I told her she had already eaten her mini-pancakes earlier in the week. She swore she had eaten bagels all week. And she had – except for Monday, when she ate her last packet of pancakes. But nooooo, she argued. She hadn’t. And she kept mouthing off about it. Crying. Pitching fits. OVER PANCAKES.
I have a lot of hope that tomorrow is going to be a lot better. Because I know a couple girls who are going to bed rather early tonight and all that sleep will help sunnify their outlooks. It better help!