The fire was blazing (thanks to my awesome fire making skills!), the Christmas tree was lit, the sound of rain softly drifting through the open window (because I am too good at making a fire-the house was an oven!), and non-stop Christmas music was quietly playing on the radio. All the ingredients for a night curled up on the couch, finishing the most recent novel by one of my favorite authors.
Except for one thing. That thing happens to be about two feet tall and knows only one word, which he was repeating over and over while tugging on my pant leg: "Up." I figured that having my sweet little boy next to me while reading by the fire would only add to the cozy evening. Well, add he did.
He did sit still for about ten seconds. Then he stood up on the couch and ran to the other end, crashing into my throw pillows (the ones that I place "just so"). He thought this was great fun, so he ran back the other way and crashed into me. Normally I would laugh with him and cover him with kisses, but not tonight. I was irritated...couldn't he see that I was reading? I put him on the floor and tried to ignore his cries for "Up, up!" I got about two sentences in before his cries became shrieks and his tugs on my pant leg turned into full attacks. I tried to distract him with his toys, but who wants toys when you can run with wild abandon on a couch, complete with pillows and mommies to jump on? So I let him get up on the couch with the firm direction, "You may sit on the couch with Mommy, but only if you sit. You may not run and jump on the furniture." So far the score is Benjamin-1, Allison-0.
This scene repeated itself for about 30 minutes while I tried in vain to just read one page of my book. Finally, I could take it no longer. As Benjamin reeled his arm back to launch a coaster across the room (or maybe at my head) I grabbed his arm and said in a very loud voice, "No! You may not throw things! Why do you insist on throwing everything? You have hundreds of toys to play with and a whole house to run around, so why do you have to be right in front of me, bugging me to play with you, when all I want to do is enjoy my book by the fire?!" With that, I looked at the clock and deemed it bedtime (What? It was only ten minutes earlier than normal!) I marched him into his room, got him into his pajamas, read him one book (very quickly), tucked him in his crib and shut the door.
Finally. I sighed with relief as I settled back down on the couch and picked up my book. But as I found my place again, I felt unsettled. Something was keeping me from enjoying my newfound peace. As I looked around the room (toys stewn all over, throw pillows askew, and the aforementioned coaster still on the floor where Benjamin dropped it when I morphed into "Mommy Dearest"), Mommy guilt hit me hard and fast. What kind of mother refuses to play with her child because of her selfish desire to read a book? All he wanted was to jump and laugh with me, but I refused...how could I refuse such a wonderful gift? It's not like my "perfect evening" couldn't have waited until 8, when Benjamin goes to bed. I felt terrible.
The good news is that I was able to redeem myself this morning when he woke up. After breakfast we played for quite awhile, chasing each other around the house and building block towers so we could then knock them over. Luckily, I don't think he remembers that I was a mean mommy last night who wouldn't play. All he hopefully remembers now is that his mommy looks really funny trying to crawl under the coffee table like he does (note to self: I am too big to gracefully crawl under the coffee table-do not attempt again). But since it made him laugh so much to see me try, I'm sure I'll end up doing it again. Just not in front of company.
Except for one thing. That thing happens to be about two feet tall and knows only one word, which he was repeating over and over while tugging on my pant leg: "Up." I figured that having my sweet little boy next to me while reading by the fire would only add to the cozy evening. Well, add he did.
He did sit still for about ten seconds. Then he stood up on the couch and ran to the other end, crashing into my throw pillows (the ones that I place "just so"). He thought this was great fun, so he ran back the other way and crashed into me. Normally I would laugh with him and cover him with kisses, but not tonight. I was irritated...couldn't he see that I was reading? I put him on the floor and tried to ignore his cries for "Up, up!" I got about two sentences in before his cries became shrieks and his tugs on my pant leg turned into full attacks. I tried to distract him with his toys, but who wants toys when you can run with wild abandon on a couch, complete with pillows and mommies to jump on? So I let him get up on the couch with the firm direction, "You may sit on the couch with Mommy, but only if you sit. You may not run and jump on the furniture." So far the score is Benjamin-1, Allison-0.
This scene repeated itself for about 30 minutes while I tried in vain to just read one page of my book. Finally, I could take it no longer. As Benjamin reeled his arm back to launch a coaster across the room (or maybe at my head) I grabbed his arm and said in a very loud voice, "No! You may not throw things! Why do you insist on throwing everything? You have hundreds of toys to play with and a whole house to run around, so why do you have to be right in front of me, bugging me to play with you, when all I want to do is enjoy my book by the fire?!" With that, I looked at the clock and deemed it bedtime (What? It was only ten minutes earlier than normal!) I marched him into his room, got him into his pajamas, read him one book (very quickly), tucked him in his crib and shut the door.
Finally. I sighed with relief as I settled back down on the couch and picked up my book. But as I found my place again, I felt unsettled. Something was keeping me from enjoying my newfound peace. As I looked around the room (toys stewn all over, throw pillows askew, and the aforementioned coaster still on the floor where Benjamin dropped it when I morphed into "Mommy Dearest"), Mommy guilt hit me hard and fast. What kind of mother refuses to play with her child because of her selfish desire to read a book? All he wanted was to jump and laugh with me, but I refused...how could I refuse such a wonderful gift? It's not like my "perfect evening" couldn't have waited until 8, when Benjamin goes to bed. I felt terrible.
The good news is that I was able to redeem myself this morning when he woke up. After breakfast we played for quite awhile, chasing each other around the house and building block towers so we could then knock them over. Luckily, I don't think he remembers that I was a mean mommy last night who wouldn't play. All he hopefully remembers now is that his mommy looks really funny trying to crawl under the coffee table like he does (note to self: I am too big to gracefully crawl under the coffee table-do not attempt again). But since it made him laugh so much to see me try, I'm sure I'll end up doing it again. Just not in front of company.
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