Bedtime

I thought I would lovingly, patiently explain, using all the right words
I thought she would gaze and soak up my wisdom
I thought she would nod and we'd kiss and my will would be done....
But
She's not sleepy - she needs to call goodnight to all the birds
She doesn't want me to sing to her - she is busy
She pushes me away and slams the door
What
will it be like when she is 15?

Bedtime has always been a struggle for us. I go from being too understanding - just one more story, just one more cuddle ...
to a little bit firmer - it is TIME for BED now, honey...
to furious - and tonight that means that I've just cleared everything out of her room except her bed. She was using the chairs as launch pads to jump onto the bed and I was worried if I left the side tables, she'd start to use them. And then she started chewing on the lamp and the monitor. So I took those, too.
But - and I'm proud of this - I didn't yell. I just reiterated my position and took action.

Honestly, governments could learn from me.

But it didn't work.

And now she is sobbing and I am still tired and still have a messy house and still haven't sat down in hours and we are both worn out and nobody is happy and I don't know what to do to fix it.

It's just one of those evenings that makes you think - I took all those prenatal vitamins, all that fish oil, all those yoga classes and they haven't made a blind bit of difference. Someone call SuperNanny.

And another thing? She makes this noise when she pushes me away ... "na-ANG!" (like the Smurfs in the episode when they are all biting each others' tails and turning purple with some Smurf disease) and it makes me angry and sad all at once.
Because if only I was better at this gig, it wouldn't be SO ...
I know - I know they are all like this - it is a stage, it's normal. I know I'm a decent mum - we had two kinds of vegetables for dinner and ATE them. I know it is more important to be a parent than a friend. I know all this, but still...

It reminds me of something my MIL said once. I asked why she'd not sent my husband to preschool and she said that she didn't think that anyone could take care of him as well as she could.
I didn't know what to say to that.
Most of the time, I think that anyone could do it better than I can.
But my MIL has 40 years of hindsight - he turned out great. I'm sure the sobbing, shrieking toddler in the next room will, too.

Two doesn't last forever, right? Lie to me and tell me three is easier. I promise I'll believe you.