You know that tv show where that British Nanny Jo comes to some down to their last straw couple's home and helps them with their kids? She's got this one technique she advocates when a child keeps getting out of bed at bedtime; you sit outside their room and when they get up you just put them back in bed without saying anything and leave the room. After a few times of this the kid just goes to sleep and the Mom or Dad is really happy and nobody cries or yells and the kid is from then on an angel.She's full of crap.
8 times. 8 TIMES Trot got up tonight and by #6 there WAS crying involved and it was my tears that were staining the pillow. I'm this close to stringing chicken wire around his bed and getting Rakes to build me some sort of pulley system with his Legos and some Lincoln Logs to lift the kid into and out of bed.
Meanwhile Ange is in bed with a Migraine so I'm trying to do some sort of parentesque stage whisper and Rakes is in his room hollering "I can't sleep!" and Ciera is answering the phone when she has no idea whose calling, leading to the following discussion.
Me: Who is it?
Ciera: I don't know.
Me: Then why are you answering?
Ciera: It rang.
Me: We have an answering machine.
Ciera: But it rang.
At one point I could sympathize with Jack Nicholson in "One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest"; if Nurse Ratchett had shown up with a needle filled with heroin and a headless chicken I don't think I'd even have blinked.
Two things kept me on track;
1? Opening Day is in 16 days.
2? The kids are spending the night at my Mom's and I'm getting my first Saturday off since I went to Boston last year.
I plan on sleeping until 10 a.m. or whenever I have to use the bathroom, whichever comes first.
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