coolest kids ever

So just when you think that I couldn’t possibly write another post about sleep training, why yes, there’s another one of those babies coming right up. I know you’re probably like “Seriously woman, how difficult can sleep training be? Just make them sleep in their own room and be done with it already. My kids have been sleep-trained since they were 4-weeks old.”

Except that I’ve never been very successful at making the kids do anything at all. Unless those things are like watching TV and eating ice-cream, I have like a 37% success rate at making them do what I say.

But then out of the blue, it just happened. For the past 3 nights, they went to bed in their room at 9 and the next time I saw them was at 7 in the morning. I couldn’t be sure if it was a case of them being too exhausted to even stir the whole night or that they were able to fall back asleep even after waking up in the middle of the night. I suspected it was the first one, but at least there was HOPE.

Fast forward to last night. My room door creaked open at 3.40 am, and I could sense the presence of a little person standing at the doorway. My head was all “OH NO. NO, NO, NO, NO, NO. Not tonight, you don’t.”

You see, when the sleep training began, I knew it was going to be rough so I stored up on my sleep by going to bed the same time they did. That way, I’d still be able to clock a good 6 hours before they crashed my slumber party at 3-ish. But after 3 nights of non-disturbed sleep in a row, I decided to spend that extra sleeping time watching Cougar Town last night. Which I did till almost 2 in the morning.

So when Kirsten shuffled her way in last night, I felt totally cheated.

“I just want to hug you one time,” she said. “I cannot sleep in mommy’s room right? I sleep in my own room kor kor will protect me.” With that, she turned and went back to her room.

I waited for another 10 minutes and the silence that ensued was the sweet, sweet sound of a GLORIOUS VICTORY.

This morning, I told her I was so proud of her for being brave and we did a victory dance together while I made plans to continue my Cougar Town marathon tonight.

We’re heading off to Resorts World Sentosa for a 2-day getaway sort of thing so this will be quick.

This is Kirsten and Mickey. They look like they’re best friends but the poor dog is like Nemo and my little girl is like Darla, the Little Terror from Finding Nemo.

Everyday, she chases him around the house shouting “Mickey I just want to hug you” and most of the time, he’s quick enough to escape her clutches but once in a while, he gets caught by a sneak attack and cornered. She grabs him and pins him down and hugs him and kisses him all over while he struggles to escape. It’s only fortunate that my mom’s poor dog is hardy enough to withstand being man(girl)-handled by her.

And when he does manage to squirm out of her grasp, she’s all “MICKEY COME HERE NOW! YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ME YOU NAUGHTY BOY!”

Which is the point he runs to Tru and looks at him with those doggy eyes that say “HELP SAVE ME FROM THIS MONSTROSITY.”

Truett is the resident dog whisperer around here, in that he speaks to Mickey so gently it’s like whispering. Whenever we scold Mickey for doing something bad like rummaging the trash, he’ll run to his rescue and say “Mickey is a good boy, don’t scold him.” So it’s no surprise that Mickey loves him to bits and follows him around willingly.

Kirsten says it’s because they’re both boys and I should get her a ‘girl dog’ but I didn’t want to break her little heart by telling her that it’s really because she’s a terror to animals and if I were a ‘girl dog’, I’d also be running away from her as fast as I could.

I didn’t think I’d be saying this but this whole discipline thing has been getting easier now that the kids are a little bigger. For one, I hardly have to deal with them screaming and melting dramatically into the floor anymore.

Right now they’re at this wonderful age where they’re old enough to understand reason yet too young to do the defiant eye-roll and stomp off while raining curses at me under their breath. Oh, I am perfectly certain that the day will come because I was once the master of the killer eye-roll. If my kids are anything like me, I’m probably doomed so I’m just glad I still have time to figure out what I’m going to do when that day comes.

These days, I employ a 2-pronged approach to discipline. For misdemeanors like snatching toys or refusing to pack their room, they face the wall for 5 minutes. After the period of quiet reflection, they will usually calm down and wake up their idea. But for insolence and blatant disobedience, they face the wall and then have their privileges revoked – usually their favorite show on TV or their daily quota of gummies.

While I was bathing Kirsten yesterday, Tru came to ask if he could waterbomb my toilet with a handful of clear plastic bags. Um, let’s see, NO.

“Ok, fine,” he mumbled.

I had a feeling he was up to no good so I yelled after him, “I’m serious, don’t do it. Keep the bags. We’ll do waterbombs another day.”

By the time Kirsten was done, I found him in my toilet filling up the bags with water. For that, I told him he wasn’t allowed to watch Jake and the Neverland Pirates that evening. When the show started, he begged and pleaded but to no avail. I was sticking to my guns. His eyes filled up with little drops of tears when he saw Kirsten watching it, but he forced himself not to cry.

“Would you like to sit on the couch with momma to read a book?” I asked, not sure if he would throw a hissy fit or scream or flail.

He peered at his sister longingly from outside the door, then held his blankie and nodded, still with tears in his eyes. For 10 minutes, he sat on my lap and read a book while trying not to pay any attention to the happy piratey songs in the background. I knew it was excruciating for him and he was really trying to be good about it.

“Tru, you did really well so you get early parole for good behavior. There’s still 20 minutes of Jake left, you can go watch now.”

“THANK YOU MOMMY!” he grabbed my neck in a bear hug before running off.

After having my butt kicked by parenting for so long, it was nice to feel like a rock star for a change.

As with all work environments, working from home has its pros and cons. Right at the top of the benefits list is being able to go to work in my pyjamas, followed closely by not needing to bother with all that make up (or showers, for that matter) for days. Then there’s the music that I can blast as loud as I want (to drown out the kids’ shrieks) without dirty looks from co-workers.

I used to think that I could take naps whenever and go for 3-hour lunches but hah, neither of those things have happened yet. Most days, I’m glad to have 5 minutes to myself in the toilet.

At first, it’s been impossible to even find a quiet place where it’s just me and my mac, but I’ve since trained the kids to respect my Designated Work Area, which is basically made up of my super swivel boss chair, my dining table and my laptop. I tell them that whenever mommy sits on this chair, “the Boss needs to work”.

Just the other day, I made a nice big cup of coffee and brought it to my Designated Work Area, only to find it hijacked by the kids who were taking turns to usurp my Bossness.

Tru: I’m the Boss, I need to do work.

Kirsten: OK MY TURN! I need to be the boss, I’m very busy.

Now I need to teach them that my Boss status is non-transferable, although I’m not optimistic about the success of that particular lesson.