Going to bed is hard
It took the girls two plus hours to go to sleep tonight. This is becoming a pattern. Drives us nuts.
I am my father. I yell and scream. I'm terrified that my kids will see me as an ogre. I get genuinely upset and aggressive. What kills me is the guilt I feel. I am occasionally able to stop and look at myself through my little girls' eyes. That's not the father I want to be. I don't hit or call names or make categorical accusations. But I yell and growl and shout and I show no empathy or patience.
I want to remember Phoebe's need to gather all her bedtime belongings - blanket, sippy cups, stuffed animals and so on - before going anywhere and the cute melt downs she has upon realizing she can't carry it all. I want to remember Anathea's needs for cuddling and even her perpetually pained legs (do all girls grow up with nighttime leg pain?). I want to remember my nighttime ritual of stopping by their bed to do obligatory breathing checks, kiss their sleeping heads and whisper that I love them.
I am my father. I yell and scream. I'm terrified that my kids will see me as an ogre. I get genuinely upset and aggressive. What kills me is the guilt I feel. I am occasionally able to stop and look at myself through my little girls' eyes. That's not the father I want to be. I don't hit or call names or make categorical accusations. But I yell and growl and shout and I show no empathy or patience.
I want to remember Phoebe's need to gather all her bedtime belongings - blanket, sippy cups, stuffed animals and so on - before going anywhere and the cute melt downs she has upon realizing she can't carry it all. I want to remember Anathea's needs for cuddling and even her perpetually pained legs (do all girls grow up with nighttime leg pain?). I want to remember my nighttime ritual of stopping by their bed to do obligatory breathing checks, kiss their sleeping heads and whisper that I love them.