Mother of the Year Part 2 - teaching my kids more four letter words

As I've said in previous posts, it's always my greatest joke when I refer to myself as Mother of Year (MoY) - mostly because I am sooooooo very far from it. When I screw up really big as a parent, I usually throw my fists up in the air and say "Yesss! Mother of the Year". The following story was hands down, one of my best MoY moments. Try not to judge me...

When my youngest was born, amongst other issues, she came out with a pretty significant case of reflux. You could actually hear it when she was just a few days old. As any parent of a baby with reflux will tell you, it's very difficult to get through. She had a milk allergy and since most of the meds are dairy based, she could not tolerate them. Of the ones we did try, she screamed for 7-9 hours at a time. I was a lot less willing to try from then on.

Every night, like clock work, she cried and screamed from her reflux from 7-9 pm. I paced the floors singing, rocking, bouncing, you name it trying to calm her. It was a few months into it when we were finally introduced to the reflux wedge. Prior to this she slept on my husband, me or not at all. A reflux wedge, in case you've never seen it, is about 2 feet wide, 2 feet deep, and 2 feet tall - with a 45 degree angle cut to make the wedge. It has additional foam pieces to support the baby and straps - yes, Children's Hospital approved, straps - to strap the baby into at night. So, she would do her crying jag for 2 hours, after which time, I would gently place her into the wedge, strap my baby in, give her a kiss and then leave the room. Yeah, I know, it felt crazy to me at the time too. When you're desperate, you tend to be more willing to review alternative options though!

She wasn't much of sleeper as a result of all of this. She often woke up three times a night between feedings and reflux. She was known for giving back entire bottles - even with thickened liquids - so sometimes we got to do both in one very long night time session. We nicknamed "The Giver". My patients used to ask me if I missed seeing her during the day when I was at work. I would always chuckle and say "Nope. I see her all night long anyway".

Around this time, my anxious with an overactive imagination, then 4 year old was also waking up three times a night - but not the same times as her. He would usually come in with silly requests like 'I need water', 'My pillow is too itchy', 'I don't like my bed' - you get the picture. She would wake at 10, he would wake at 11, she would wake at midnight, he would come in at 1, she would wake at 2 and he would be back in at 3. By then they were all in bed with us because we were desperate for even 4 hours of uninterrupted sleep. This little cycle went on for months. Seriously, months! Now I am a pretty patient soul, especially with my own children, but after a while, our nightly routine and serious lack of sleep had started to wear thin.

One day, my 4 year old was working on a craft project at the kitchen table. He was a perfectionist from day 1, and if he didn't like his work - even the smallest part of it - he would throw the whole thing away. I know - a little dramatic, don't you think? As it happened, he was almost finished with his project when he made the dreaded mistake. In a truly grand gesture, he swept everything off the kitchen table where it crashed to the floor, hung his little head, sighed a full body sigh, and said "Damn it!" in a totally deflated yet irritated tone of voice.

Me "Um, excuse me, are you allowed to say that?"
Him hands on hips like a true Diva, head going from side to side to emphasize his point, said emphatically "I AM 4 YEARS OLD, AND I CAN SAY DAMN IT IF I WANT TO"
Me "Um, no, you can't"
Him "Oh yeah, well I'm going to go tell Daddy"
Me (trying really hard not to laugh, because I know that I am the low reactor in the family) "Go ahead"

Well, my little man marched out toward the door to the garage, flung it open, fully expecting paternal support, and said "Daddy! I SAID 'DAMN IT!' " flings an accusing finger in my direction "and Mommy..."

That was about the time my husband exploded - "GET UP TO YOUR ROOM! YOU DON'T TALK TO YOUR MOTHER LIKE THAT!"

It really scared the bejesus out of my son as he was not accustomed to being yelled at, and he ran to his room very upset. Hubby and I waited for him to clear the corner before we started laughing.

Hubby "Where did he get that from? We've been so careful not to say it"
Me "I know! It's probably some kid at daycare whose parents swear in front of them."

We tried to isolate the source of his new found vocabulary, but coming up with nothing, we felt confident blaming others.

A few nights later, there I was, trying desperately to get some sleep when the baby started crying. I got her settled, was just about to fall asleep when Jack came in and said "I need new socks". I told him to go back to bed. I had just started to drift off when the baby was crying again - this time for milk (okay Rice milk). I got her squared away, started to close me eyes, and there was poor Jack again "I need some chocolate milk". Me "No you don't, go back to sleep". No sooner did I start to fall back asleep, then the baby starts in again. I get her settled once more and it's now close to 1 am. I had just fallen asleep when I hear Jack in the doorway for the third time "I don't like my room". Then I hear myself sigh a full body sigh, and say "Damn it!" in a totally deflated yet irritated tone of voice. My husband starts cracking up laughing next to me!
Hubby "It was YOU!"
Me "Damn it! Why do I always have to be the one to teach them four letter words? Yep - that's me - Mother of the Year!!".

And while, I am still pretty careful not to swear in front my my kids during the day, more than once I have caught myself swearing in the middle of the night when my kids have woken me up!