Still Seething

7:30pm

"Time to choose pajamas and books to read."

"NO, I don't want to."

"C'mon, let's go."

"No!" As he runs from his room to mine, he climbs on the bed from the point farthest away from trying to get to the other side of the bed as I get closer. I grab him by his ankle, pull him off of the bed, "No, NO, NO!" he says as I carry him to his room. I feel my blood pressure rising. Wood, who's been entertaining outside for most of the evening has by this time settled in to watch Baseball.

"Short sleeves or long sleeves tonight?"

"I don't wanna wear jammies. I'm playing with this toy."

"It's time to choose jammies or you're going to lose one book."

The play continues and I know we're in for a long one. Not 5 minutes into this and I'm ready to lay down and fall out myself; it was one of those days at work today.

"Okay, one book lost."

"NO, NO, NO, NO!"

"That's the consequence. Do you know what a consequence is? It's what happens when you break a rule."

"if you break the law, the police will take you to jail."

"yes, the consequence of breaking the law is that you will go to jail. The consequence for not listening to Mom and Dad when it's time to go to bed is to lose a book. C'mon, let's get these clothes on."

"I want TWO BOOKS."

And so the evening goes. Every time I try to lay down the law, he takes it up a notch. I can bluff him by not reacting, or use logic to appeal to him and the fact that his winnings could be so much greater if he'd just go to sleep! . But it doesn't work out that way. He's seen my hand and in the infinite wisdom of his four year old body and soul says "I'll see your threat and raise you by two, bitch."

8:30pm

He gets me to lay down with him, plays, gives me raspberries on my arms and giggles, asks why, gets out of bed, has to pee, needs to give his Daddy one more hug and kiss, runs to my room and jumps on the bed. I answer questions, offer to rub his back, remind him that we don't hit - and I can call the police if he keeps it up, threaten to take away his things (like his favorite shoes), put him back in bed every time he gets out, leave the room myself, and stop responding verbally (which helps a mere tad). When he's really angry and frustrated at me he whine/cries "you're not my best mom", "I wish I lived here alone", and "I wish I were big like a giant."

We're upping the ante with every interaction and Wood is still sitting on the couch watching baseball.

When I've reached my limit, the pronouncement "I'm DONE" prompts Wood to swoop in to make the save. But it doesn't work tonight. None of us knows how to maintain boundaries and also minimize the intensity that's been built up by this point.

If anything it seems to be intensifying even more. So, 15 minutes later, I take over again.

"IT'S TIME TO GO TO BED TWIG." He goes to his room. I go to mine.

He comes out of his room. "GO TO BED TWIG."

"But, I just want to sleep with you." Yes, that could be the easier option at the moment. But I'm infuriated and exhausted and it's almost 9:30PM on MONDAY NIGHT.

"NO! You're not invited in my bed." So instead of coming to my room again, he stands at the top of the stairs watching his dad watch television. Whining something that's incomprehensible because he's exhausted from the fighting to subvert us at all costs. In my rage, I believe that the piece de resistance is a spanking. Yeah! Let's take it there so it'll end sooner rather than later. So, I implement my plan - over a thick disposable diaper I give him a swat and put him in his bed, screaming and crying.

Soon thereafter, Wood does save the day. Comforts him once his hypocrite of a mother resorts to violence to end the argument. Wood gets him to settle down and finally fall asleep. Granted it's after I've made my kid feel like crap and as if I don't care, and after Wood's made something like 35 trips up and down the stairs. But hey, he's asleep.

It's after 10pm by now. I'm laying in bed, simultaneously exhausted and ready to explode. Really, I want never do this again - to spare us all this pain and suffering.

I remember as a kid feeling the same way Twig seems to feel during these times. I said and did the same things he's doing; did and said anything possible to keep the fight going. I don't remember what I wanted. But I do remember having an expectation that my parents show me the better way by example.

In my exhaustion, I'm trying to figure out how this started or where it could have been derailed. The epiphany - other than the feeling that I'm the incapable root cause - never comes.

It took TWO AND A HALF HOURS (!) to get my kid to sleep last night. Unfortunately, this isn't the first time that this has happened in the past week.

At 5am this morning, Wood's alarm woke me. Still seething. Better go write.

Twig was up at 5:40am, I'm afraid. He's feeling about the same as me.

FUCK.