An evening at home with a three year old

I mentioned on Facebook last night that I was ordering a bed wetting alarm to help Ian stay dry overnight. There were lots of helpful suggestions like deny liquids an hour before bed, pee before bed, use pee pads, don't let him in our bed, use pull ups, or wait it out. I thought of all these suggestions as we went through our evening together to see where they might fall into our routine. Here's an example from today: 5:30pm - pick Ian up from school. He asks for Mama milk but I tell him no cause I wanna get home. He complies.

6:00pm - Grocery shopping on the way home. Ian cheerfully sits in the cart eating strawberries and goldfish crackers.

6:30pm - We get home. I change pants and refill cat food that the damn dogs ate while Ian decides he doesn't like his shirt then cries because he is cold and can't get his shirt back on by himself.

7:15pm - Dinner of homemade chicken soup is served. Ian has two bowls plus a half a box of Horizon chocolate milk. We play trains and watch Caillou on the iPad.

8:00pm - Ian pees right before we go upstairs. We read our two new books (The Three Ninja Pigs and A Sick Day for Amos McGhee).

8:20pm - Mama milk

8:30pm - We both lie in the dark trying to help him wind down for falling asleep There are many questions like how does his Lightning McQueen car sleep if his eyes don't close.

8:40pm - Ian asks to pee again. He insists Lightning McQueen come too. He asks for the rest of his chocolate milk but I tell him we have to wait so he won't pee. He complies.

9:05pm - Ian gets up to pee again but says I don't have to come. Upon his return he asks for water. I tell him no and he cries for 5 minutes that he's thirsty and another 5 minutes that he doesn't want to sleep.

9:15pm - We both fall asleep in the big bed.

11:30pm - I wake up and transfer Ian to his bed. Rich comes home and I make Ian's lunch.

12:00am - We go upstairs for bed. I get to put our freshly washed comforter on the bed. I notice Ian has half fallen out of his bed.

12:50am - Ian wakes up, crawls into our bed but moves to the sidecar crib next to me (surprisingly). He asks for more covers and Mama milk. I tell him milk can come later. He complies.

Part of the reason I let Ian in our bed is it's some of the only time we get to hang out. Otherwise we get from 5:30pm-8:30pm and a lot of that is bedtime routine and tears over the injustice of the t- shirt he's worn all day that is suddenly unacceptable.

Other than the bed wetting soaking us all, he is a delight at 3am.

*Update* 4:50am - Ian woke up and said, "I don't wanna be in the crib." and moved next to me. He asked for Mama milk and I complied, figuring this will be his morning dose versus at 6:45 when I'm trying to get out of the bed. Of course, that dose of milk led him to pee just a little. He didn't soak the bed, just his undies and fleece pants. But that's a start ...

Fighting fair

Ian and I went to Krispy Kreme last night for a treat after the SCA meeting. I had planned on a quick trip through the drive-thru but it was closed so we had to go in. No problem, we can work with this. We got Ian an apple juice and a chocolate sprinkled donut (his favorite) and a hot glazed for me (which I was unsure if I wanted but figured I would have the option). Ian happily sat and ate his donut.

Things were going well. We talked about the donut workers and the conveyor belts and the icing. I asked if he wanted a paper hat and he said, "hmm, no thanks." Fair enough. He finished his donut and we stood to watch the donuts scroll by. Things were going great.

Suddenly Ian started getting a little loud and spastic. It was late and he was getting tired and he had just eaten a donut. I get that. I told him we had to go and he said, "NO!" I told him we still had to go and he screamed, "NOOOOO!" Sigh.

So I picked him up, and he tried to squirm away. He was lunging for his apple juice and he weighs 43 pounds so I was barely able to keep him in my arms. I still had my donut to pick up and my purse and a stack of napkins. And the flailing screaming three year old. Good times.

He continued to fight me because he didn't want me to carry him "that high" (I had thrown him over my shoulder in a fireman's carry, perhaps as a bit of a 'screw you, screaming kid' act of defiance). By the time I got to the van, I screamed, "STOP IT!" but he was laughing wildly at that point so my protests fell on deaf ears.

I got the van door open and threw him into his seat, not so gingerly (man my arm was hurting). Oh and in the trip across the parking lot, he had managed to swing the donut box into my eye. Awesome. He was still laughing and spinning his arms all over. As soon as his butt hit the car seat he sprang right back up, doing his best plank impression. So I got in the van and stuck my knee in his chest to strap him in. Suddenly his shrieks of laughter turned to shrieks of rage.

There was a lot of "STOP IT, MOMMY!" and "OWIE!" and "DON'T STRAP ME IN!"

Once we got moving, I proceeded to regale him with all of my frustrations and annoyances. I shouldn't have to carry him out of the store like a baby. I shouldn't have to pin him into the car seat like a wild animal. I bought him a donut and he ate it. He doesn't get to whine over my donut. It's my (damn) donut and I'll eat it, or give it to the dogs or throw it away if I want because it's mine. I know he's tired and it's been a busy night but if he is going to act like a wild animal then we just will go home and not get donuts or go to stores or eat at restaurants because I can't take the risk that he will embarrass me or worse yet hurt me. My eye hurts from the donut box. My arm hurts from his flailing like a wild animal. And my feelings are hurt because Ian laughed at me when I told him I needed help.

We drove in silence for the rest of the trip home. But when we pulled into the driveway, there came this clear quiet voice from the back seat.

"I'm sorry for not listening, Mommy. I'm sorry I hurt your feelings." "Thank you, Ian. That means a lot."

As I got out of the car and came around to him in the back seat, he continued, "I didn't want to go home." Me: "You wanted to stay at the donut shop?" Ian: "Uh hunh. You pushed me. I didn't want to get in my seat because I wanted my chocolate milk from the cup hole [sic], but you didn't let me talk. You hurt my feelings too." Me: "Oh, buddy, I didn't realize you wanted your milk. I was busy being mad about my eye and my arm. Did it hurt your feelings when I fussed at you in the car?" Ian: "Uh hunh." Me: "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I yelled. I'm sorry I pushed you in your seat. Can I have a hug?" Ian: "Yeah!"

"Let's go play trains, Mommy."

A day in the life

Today I have: Packed Ian's lunch and dressed him for school. He had to put on his socks and shoes before leaving but could wait to change his shirt until we got there. We stopped at Wawa (of course). I got him to school and read him one Thomas the train story before peeling him off of me into the arms of his teacher. I rejoiced that there were no tears.

I met with developers and service folks. We had a few meetings. I approved a few development items and had some suggestions for how to fix a few things.

I went to Wal-Mart (against my better judgement) and scored more sweatpants for my husband, some sweatshirts for him and an entire new wardrobe for Ian where each item was $4 or less. I also found several high protein snacks to try to put weight back on my husband.

I left just in time to get to my nail appointment. I filled the shop in on our last two weeks as we struggled to get slime green nail polish off me. I now have "red pearl" nails for the holiday season. I also used Amazon Prime on my phone to buy my nail tech's Christmas present for my hairdresser, thereby blowing her mind.

I fixed Rich lunch and had a snack of my own. I worked on some emails. I wrote a custom search to show how to find borrowing overdue items to possibly block patrons and created a video showing how it works.

I hunted down the sour smell in my minivan. I think it was one of the seven cereal bowls hidden in various crannies of the passenger compartment. I brought the trash can in and started a load of all the clothes from Wal-Mart. I picked up the geriatric cat that was contemplating peeing in the living room and delivered her to a litter box as a better option.

I took the dogs for a brief walk to get some sunshine while Rich napped. I discovered and disposed of the cat poop the geriatric cat produced for us in the middle of the living room while we were on our walk. I worked on some more emails, talked to some co-workers and made some more notes about products.

I took Rich out to get him a 700 calorie smoothie to help put some weight back on him. I talked to my mom while driving through traffic to retrieve my son. I met one of his new teachers who says Ian is working on his listening ears, whatever that means. I let my son go outside without a coat and gave him a smoothie.

I emptied and refilled the dishwasher then brought the Wal-Mart clothes upstairs. I fixed plates for Ian and me of the delicious pork loin our neighbors made us. I had an in depth discussion with my son about trying to go potty before bed, only to have a tearful conversation in the potty about expectations and communication. I watched Busytown and nursed my son into unconsciousness. I carried all 42 pounds of him upstairs, all the while contemplating how much one of those banister chairs cost. I waited patiently for the geriatric cat to finish hacking up her hairballs so I could clean those up (thankfully off the tile) before returning dishes to the neighbors. I answered some more emails.

And I took a picture of Rich and me on the couch, just so I could document us together this day. It's low light and grainy but we're both smiling. It was the one where he looked the heaviest and I looked the lightest, so win-win.

I'm going to strip the bed upstairs shortly since my son wet the bed last night (hence the potty discussion). And then I'm going to have a cup of tea. Or possibly a hard cider.