Holy Sh!t.
I am in the middle of the most epically bad bedtime in history. A has pulled out all the stops, drama-wise. I mean, I've never seen anything like it. This is a child who normally at this point in her life reads a book, turns the light out, maybe talks with her sister a little bit, and goes to sleep. It's now 2 hours later and she is wailing in her room. Wailing. I don't feel like describing the long chain of dramatic events because living through them once was exhausting enough, but trust me: It. Was. Epic.
Let me also say that she is a child who needs a little anchoring from home and from her parents. If she's away from the rules and structure of home for too long, it's like she's just adrift at sea. I'm not saying we have some big routine because we don't, but whatever it is that normally happens here at home, she needs it to function like a human being. When she goes without it for too long, she's like a wild animal who has been released into nature and then has to be redomesticated. Basically she melts the f*ck down, as a hyena might if you put a bow in its hair and tried to make it to act like a nice, normal little girl.
Rewind to yesterday morning.
I agreed to let Twinklette go swimming and to a movie with Fun Sink and FIL, without sisters. She's recently had three epic screaming tantrums in front of them (it only happens when they're around, strangely), so I guess they figure, "Hey--let's reward her with a day that's all about her." They picked her up at 9 a.m., leaving a distraught little sister to fend for herself (cling to me) all day while I held Baby B and thought about all the packing I wasn't doing.
Here's what happened when they picked her up:
Me: What time are you all bringing her home?
FIL: I don't know. We have a lot of fun planned.
Me: That's great! Do you have any idea what time it'll be?
Fun Sink: (sort of circumspect) Oh...I don't know...Does she have something to do later?
Me: No, not really.
(Silence).
(More silence as I wait for an answer).
(I mean, for fuck's sake, people--I want to be home when you drop off my kid, so just give me a time!)
Me: So, can you all give me a ballpark?
Fun Sink: Well, maybe she'll just spend the night.
Me: Stunned silence and disbelief as they drove away with my child.
Later they talked on the phone and asked Mr. Twinkle if it was OK. He said yes. And then they sent me a quick text (after it was all said and done) to "ask" me if it was OK. I would have said no if they'd asked under normal circumstances (if they hadn't just announced--in front of her--that it was happening, and if they hadn't already talked to Mr. Twinkle about it), because not only were they supposed to take A yesterday but they were also supposed to take A and E to the pool today. That adds up to around 30 hours that A spent away from home. She went to the pool; she went to the movies; she went to Chuck E. Cheese; she went to the Slugger Museum; she went to a playground; she went on a picnic; she went back to the pool. It was too much time away from home doing too much stuff. She came home completely exhausted and without the grounding she needs to function, and I knew I'd pay the price for it tonight. And I did.
So first we're going to list the multiple ways Fun Sink screwed me over, and then we're going to talk about what I know I have to do about it from now on.
The Screwing Over:
1) I lost a whole day of packing. When she took A out of the mix, E didn't know what to do with herself. If they'd both been here, they could have played together and I could have presumably dashed down the basement to do a couple loads of laundry throughout the day. Instead, E clung to me and my day became all about making her happy.
2). They picked up E late this morning, which delayed B's naptime and shortened my precious packing time.
3). They brought A and E back in the middle of B's naptime, ending naptime early.
4). A was such a nightmare tonight that it's now 10:30 and I lost a whole night of would-be packing.
5). Because of them I have pretty much lost two days of valuable packing time. I know it seems like I still have time, but packing for three girls and myself (minus Mr. Twinks--he has to work) is a daunting task, and I need the time and energy to do laundry, think of everything, make it happen. I can't just throw some things in a suitcase Friday morning.
They did all this under the auspices of helping me have time to pack. And I'm supposed to smile and say, "Thank you so much for taking the girls while I packed," when, actually, because of them, I've barely even started packing.
---
Here's what I've learned:
This is actually my fault for not speaking up. They put me on the spot when they announced that "maybe she'll just spend the night" while she was standing right there, and as shocked as I was, I should have spoken up right then. They went around my authority when they asked Mr. Twinks' permission. But that's still no excuse for not stepping in and saying no, even after he said yes (although Mr. Twinks and I do like to present a united front to them). I knew it was too much; I knew it wasn't going to end well. It was my responsibility to speak up for what was best for my child, and I didn't because I wanted to be nice. I didn't want to give Fun Sink a reason to think I'm a b*tch. When she texted me, I didn't want to be petty and stir up something unnecessarily via text message. I should have called her and said no.
So I've been punished, and I hope that the next time this happens I remember this night, and how awful it was, and how it was really my fault for not standing up for what I know my child needs.
So, lesson learned. And now for the packing.
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