War

If I constantly effused my children with praise on this blog, you might write me off. So before you poo-poo my cynical posts, remember: I'm just keeping it real, lest you fall under the delusion that life is perfect here (which, I realize is a common pitfall of the outside observer).

With the love I have for my children in mind, the realization that I know they are wonderful and a knowledge that I literally drown those around me as I gush over every little adorable behavior they have, read on:

Jane and I are at war.

Why, you ask?

Because little Miss Thing has recently decided that it is best to sleep it out crouched on the floor near her door. And really, she's not sleeping. Last night, she fell (finally) asleep in that bum-in-the-air position and Lane and I heard her fall into her door. Either the noise or impact awoke her and it was another hour of battle.

She has bags under her eyes. And, yet, she refuses to A) sleep in her bed and B) sleep at all.

I'm trying the SuperNanny route, really, I am. But I don't think this specific technique was made with 20-month-olds in mind.

Jane thinks it's a game.

Jane (as her nightly alter ego, Gene Wilder) running back to bed as I open the door. Of course, the camera didn't help the matter -- that's her saying "cheese" and doing her new camera smile. It may be an unsightly photo that made matters worse, but I simply must document this for posterity sake.

To make matters worse, when you try to scold her or give her a timeout over it, she simply snuggles right up to you and starts her attempts to give you kisses. HOW, I ask, am I to refuse that?

As we attempt to break this newly-found bad habit, Lane and I have again come face-to-face with the harsh reality that she is a stubborn child.

But I am more stubborn.

She may win the battle, but Mommy will win the war.

P.S. I just put her back into bed 2 minutes ago. Apparently she's back out and too lazy to get herself back in. She's at her door yelling "up, please." At least she's got manners.