I frequently have an overinflated sense of my own parenting skills and thus, in my delusional state, I may attempt to offer you advice on how to get your children to sleep through the night. In a rare moment of sanity, I’m telling you: Never, ever, ever take advice from me regarding your children and sleeping, as I have failed miserably in this arena with my own children. Last night, three – yes, I said three – of my children slept on the floor. I’d like to tell you that this can be attributed to the storms that were passing through the area, but I’d be lying. Fact of the matter is, on most nights I’m lucky to have two of my kids kids make it through the night sleeping in their own beds. The Dude starts most nights on the hallway floor, then creeps silently into our room once we’re in bed. He’s been doing this for years (like, seven) and his siblings are following his example. Bonita’s the only one that I can be reasonably sure will stay in her own bed all night. It’s really annoying, but has glimmers of cuteness here and there, like this:
I’m quite certain that this stems from some neurosis we’ve caused in our eldest child, but, looking back, I have made so many mistakes that I can’t pinpoint which one it might actually be.
While we’re discussing my ineptitudes as a parent, I’ll share with you that I was seriously beginning to question my qualifications as a parent when, for days and days on end, we had at least two, sometimes three, and – yes – occasionally four children throwing fits. Boo had a couple of weeks where she was throwing three or four per day. I promise you she never gets what she wants, but somehow they still persist. Add to that the fact that the Dude has a hard time coping with emotions and winds up going on rampages on a relatively regular basis, and poor Bonita and Bear decided, “If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em!” Life at our house is truly joy.
When I mentioned “parental ineptitude” in the title, you probably thought I was going to tell a story about Walmart, didn’t you?
Ok, seriously. We’re not all bad. For instance, when Boo got a hold of my phone during Mass, and opened a noisy app, that app happened to be Rosary Audio. If you’re going to disrupt Mass, do it with the Rosary, right?
And several of the fits that Bear has thrown in the past few weeks were because I was praying a decade with one of his siblings, and he wanted me to pray with him first.
I must be doing something right, right?
On a happier note, Boo broke my old phone, which was an iPhone 4. I was able to replace it with a 4S for a dollar, and guess what the 4S has that the 4 does not? Siri.
Yes, Siri. I’m in love with her. But don’t worry, not in the same sex marriage kind of way. I’m already married, after all. No, I love her in the, “finally, here’s someone who gets me” kind of way. She listens to me. She responds when I have a question or ask her to do something. She’s polite and respectful, and always attentive to my needs.
And get this. She even writes my blog posts for me. Last night, I dictated much of this post directly into my WordPress app, and voila! I had the beginnings of a post! OK, so she called Bonita “Anita” and Boo “Bill.” She translated “my ineptitudes” as “Mayan aptitudes” and “innuendos” as “and you windows”. But, hey. Perhaps my ineptitudes were great aptitudes for the Mayans. I’ll have to look into that. And those innuendos that I didn’t end up writing about? Well, they sure did have me thinking about throwing myself – or someone else – out of windows. I think she’s on to something.
Getting back to happier notes, a favorite Rosary thought for the week: This one isn’t deeply spiritual, but, you know how Pontius Pilate’s wife told him to have nothing to do with Jesus? How different do you think the world would be if husbands would only listen to their wives?
And another happier note: Have you ever sat down and prayed a fifteen decade rosary, straight through? I did it last night for the first time, with the added bonus of being before the Blessed Sacrament. Wow.
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