There is hope

The afternoon didn't start off well. I tried to get a jump on the homework, and in either impulse or retaliation, Bubba locked me out of the house while I was getting Moosie off of the bus. The little shit locked the storm door in the front and the door in the garage. Luckily "the count down from 5" is ingrained in his little brain and he couldn't stop the compulsion to do the right thing and unlock the door when I shouted "TWO!" through the door.

The rest of the evening didn't fare well either. I had a baked clay school craft hurled at me (I think it was a seahorse) in between trips to the "sensory room" for "time out." The rest was just, well, kind of typical of what happens during a meltdown. Moosie poked in from the sidelines, but was generally content with the "Mom and Bubba" show.

And the worst of it? I cancelled the inexperienced babysitter that was supposed to come over and play with the boys while I attended the monthly PAC (Special Education Parent Advisory Council) meeting. And to top that, I forbade anything electronic for the rest of the evening (this was at 5:30!). No TV. No movies. No computer. No XBOX. Nada. Nada. Nada. What in the Hell did I do that for?

And because I was crabby, or maybe just because I had nothing planned, I said that St. Nicholas probably wasn't coming tonight. I never remember when St. Nicholas is supposed to come, but Bubba remembered and would not stop asking about him.

But nighttime came with promises of relief. Dinner, bath/shower, minimal crying about being bored and being left alone (I finally figured out that he thought that when I said the babysitter wasn't coming over that I was just going to leave him home alone while I went alone to the meeting). And then he was asleep by 9PM. And Moosie, still processing the evening's events, let him sleep.

A short time later, I found a raggedy, worn shoe strategically placed by the TV, above the stockings. Even in an afternoon and evening full of explosions and tears, Bubba, in his innocence, thought St. Nicholas just might come. Just maybe.

I think St. Nicholas might just stop by with something small. Every kid deserves magic, don't you think? And while I am strict (when it matters), I will never purposefully crush Bubba's spirit. There are enough people out there who won't think twice before doing that.

Maybe Bubba put out his shoe just hoping for a gift like greedy selfish little children do this time of year. But I believe in hope, and that is a gift I will always choose to give no matter what.

Bedtime

We are in the dip of the curvy road of what is Bubba. While last week was resistance, this week is explosion. Last week was sensible schedules, somewhat completed homework, homemade cookies, and sleepy bathed children snuggled in bed by 9PM. This week is schedules that aren't clicking (implementation hasn't changed, just the reception!), ripped homework, a dirty kitchen, and stinky overstimulated children with scuzzy teeth who are wide awake at 10:30PM.

I don't know what started it all, but the downward slide has begun and I imagine we won't be back on track until the weekend (once the boys have sometime to catch up on sleep).

Last night, Bubba was apparently inventing ways to stay out of bed. This wasn't clear to me until he said, "How about I can't sleep because my toe hurts?" (He cut it the other day.) "Yeah, that sounds like a good one." His voice sounded quite pleased.

Moosie on the other hand, was not pleased when Bubba was finally asleep. We were keeping him out of the room to let Bubba settle down. Moosie kept exclaiming, "Macaroni! Macaroni!"

This would be difficult to understand for the untrained listener, but I--being the manipulating mommy that I am--knew Moosie was saying "Ack lonely!" [Ack is how Moosie says his brother's name.] You see, when Moosie wants to sleep with us, all I have to say is that his brother will be lonely, and the dear little boy toddles into their bedroom to hold a vigil for his big bro until both of them are sound asleep.

And as always, these things tend to backfire.

The good and bad of visual timers

Bubba and Moose were going to play at the neighbors' house while I went to a meeting. I tried to time it right so that Bubba had the motivation to do his homework, enough time for any possible meltdowns, but not too much time so that we had hours of "Is it time yet?" or random bolting out of the door.

Once the homework was completed, it was clear by several attempts to flee the house, that me saying "We will go at 6:15, when the big hand is on the 3" was not working.

So I set the visual timer.

Waiting...after trying to move the time forward and me failing at my attempt to again explain the abstract concept of time.



Still waiting...at one point turning it upside down and tapping it.



Still waiting, but finally distracted by the Charlie Brown Christmas special...



And you better believe when the red disappeared from the visual timer, he was out the door before I could blink.... without saying a word, without a coat, and with his brother running behind him screaming "Wait! Wait!"