1 Mother 2 Another

Friday evening Maddie’s school had a
fall festival, and we threw caution to the wind and went. They had
a chili cook-off, copious desserts, face painting, bounce houses, a
small train ride – I’m telling you, it was big time.
And since Maddie was deliriously happy running around with all her
school mates and the next day was a Saturday, we decided to let the
girls blow a bit past their bedtimes and stay up late.


Now, when I say “stay up late”, everything’s
relative: their usual bedtime is 6:30 p.m. – and even then, I
have to wake them both at 6:30 a.m. to get them up for the day.
We’ve missed family birthday celebrations and free tickets to
shows because of our adherence to this bedtime. But we were trying
an experiment – we’ve been derided by friends and
family as too strict on the bedtime, and thought it was a safe
place to see what would happen. So we didn’t start walking
home until 7:15, and the girls weren’t dressed and in bed
until 7:45.


Let’s just say we won’t be doing that again.

The meltdowns began almost immediately.
Both girls, who had insisted on walking to school that night even
though I’d cautioned them that they’d be tired and had
offered to drive, spent the entire time walking home complaining.
“My feet hurt! I’m so tired! I can’t make
it!” Once they got home, Maddie struggled valiantly on, but
Cora simply hit a wall and couldn’t make it.


Her breakdown was spectacular. Unstoppable crying, much screaming,
eyes nearly swollen shut. Brian and I took turns rocking her and
simply loving on her, but it was well past 8 p.m. before she was
calm and in her bed. Exhausted by the ordeal, we rejoiced that at
least they’d sleep in the next morning.


Except that they didn’t.


Usually on Saturdays, the girls will sleep until 7:30 or so. This
Saturday, Maddie was up at 7, albeit hollow-eyed and droopy. Cora
popped up soon after. You can guess how the day went.


We revised our Saturday plans, trading a trip out of town to a fun
pumpkin patch with tractor rides and a petting zoo for a trip to a
nearby church parking lot to pick up a pumpkin and buy a baked
good. The girls spent the day alternately up and down, and let me
tell you, those downs were sub-basement. Neither girl rested during
their quiet times, and by the time we put them to bed that evening
(6:15) exhaustion was etched on their faces.


Sunday was a bit better, but not much. Maddie spent most of church
cuddled up on my lap, which is coincidentally where she spent most
of her dinner as well. We barely made it through a shoe-shopping
trip for Maddie and by the end of the weekend Cora had racked up a
spectacular total of things she had lost by being rude or
disobedient, including but not limited to:


Both books for naptime Saturday. Both books for night-time
Saturday. Saturday’s daily video. Both books for naptime
Sunday. Both books for night-time Sunday. Sunday’s daily
video. And, her crowning achievement, she lost the right to have
any “treats” for three days. No candy for pooping in
the potty, no lollipop from the bank, no chocolate milk if a friend
offers it. Nothing.


Lest you think I’m exaggerating, here’s the final
exchange of Sunday evening as we got out of the car after driving
home from dinner –


Maddie: “Mommy, Cora’s looking at me funny! Make her
stop! I can’t make her stop!” Maddie bursts into tears.


My mom: “Cora, can I help you get out of the car?”


Cora: “You just zip it, Gamma!” Cora bursts into tears.


Yeah. Never again.