Nobody loves me anymore!

This past weekend, the hubs took C to an SEC football game while the twins and I went on a breakfast and playground date.  Then C got to ride in the car with her Mimi, Pops and AA (aunt) while the babies were carted around in the good ole mini van.  She was treated to food, snacks, special attention galore.  Today, it was a bit rainy and the hubs is working late, again, so I was contemplating how I would survive the night what to do with the kiddos tonight when I settled on a movie night...it is already overcast, so it gets darker earlier.  Perfect.  Feed them, turn out the lights, put on a movie, mom's sanity is saved and I've provided some great entertainment for them!  What could go wrong?

It started with me saying:  J, we'll watch that some other time.  C, you're not the mom.  E, let mommy find the remote first, then you can sit on my lap.  C!  Go to time out, I told you, you aren't his boss.  J, we watched choo choos last time.  E, hun, I would love to cuddle, but let me find the remote so you can watch your movie.  J!  Go to time out, you don't hit your sister.  E, you can sit on my lap in a minute.  C, get back in your room!  J, back in your room!  E, I don't want your doll in my lap.  C, why were you in time out?  Right, you're not his boss or mom.  That is true, you also aren't responsible for changing his diapers.  J, why were you in time out?  No, it has nothing to do with underpants.  E!  IN! A! MINUTE!

*breathe*

Okay, movie is in, 15 minutes in they're watching it, over the fact that it isn't a train movie, seated comfortably (ironically NOT on my lap), zoning out while mom attempts to get her headache under control.   I've made them promise that IF they get a movie night, they'll not throw out a single complaint about bedtime, which happens right when the movie ends.  Fast forward (oh, how I wish I could get away with that DURING the movie) to the end, and all eyes turn in my direction, just waiting, hoping, wishing, silently begging me to allow them just 5 more minutes.  But I'm an evil mom, so I told them it was bedtime.  J sighs, but goes, which is shocking b/c he's my difficult one...luckily for me, he didn't nap at school today.  E starts to fuss, but I give her "the look" and then offer up her cool night light, so she goes.  Then comes C.  I finish tucking in the babies and I notice C isn't in her bedroom, where I've instructed her to go 10 minutes ago.  She's back in the living room, lying on her couch, staring at the blank TV screen, as if by wishing, she can make another movie come on.  Then the questions begin; Can I watch just one more show?  Not even a movie, just a show?  Can I sleep with the babies?  Can I stay up until daddy comes home?  But the one that was my undoing was this:  Can I have something to eat?

Now, parents across the US of A have experienced this repeatedly, I'm sure.  I know I did it when I was a kid, but it doesn't stop it from being any less irksome now that I am the parent.  Did C eat her dinner?  Nope.  She barely touched it.  Did she eat the SECOND option I gave her (even though blah blah blah I'm not a short order cook blah blah blah)?  Nope.  So, when dinner was over, did I explain that she would get NOTHING else?  Yup.  Not even a treat, not even if the babies got something, and did she understand that?  Yup.  So then, when she asked to eat something, I nearly lost it.  But, proud mom moment, I maintained.  I said, calmly (no, really), "No, you didn't make a happy plate (a phrase that came from daycare, so we went with it), remember?  We talked about this.  No food tonight."  She. lost. it.

So, for the past 20 minutes, I have been sitting here writing this blog, listening to the wailing and gnashing of teeth coming from her bedroom because not only did she lose it when I told her no food tonight, she kicked her door on the way into her room and screamed and yelled, so I told her she had to close her door because if there wasn't a door to at least muffle the noise, I may have tossed her outside to howl with the dog that is what happens when you throw a fit, you have to keep your door closed.  Then started the sobs...you know, the ones where each sob is one singlesyllable caught on a breath, and coming from a 4 year old is just the most pathetic thing in the world?  Mine was even worse because of the content.  *sob* no *sob* body *sob* loves *sob* me *sob* any *sob* more *sobsnifflesnortsob*

So then, I am torn between anger and heartbreak.  Doesn't this little jerk of a person know how much I love her?   Why of all the ungrateful...I have half a mind to...*sigh*  My 4 year old has turned into an angst ridden teenager and I can do nothing to help her until this 20 minute tantrum has passed.  And then I still may want to throttle her.

So, how does it end, you ask?  With her falling asleep, fully clothed, on her floor, clutching a princess doll in one arm, a flashlight in the other and a half smile on her overly tired face.  My bet?  Tomorrow morning she'll feel loved again, but by tomorrow night, right around bedtime, which always comes a bit too soon for her taste, she'll question if anyone in this great big world truly can care for her once again.