RMers with kids

[spike]

my kid won't sleep in her bed anymore, at least for the entire night. she either starts there then wakes us up in the middle of the night begging to hop into our bed, or like just now, scampers in fifteen minutes after settling while we're still downstairs hanging out. it's translated to not a lot of solid sleep for everyone.

We endured this for about two months then transitioned out about a month ago. We tied her ability to stay in bed to certain rewards. Took about a week of that then things were back to normal.

Our girls tried this for a wee bit - they'd always go to mummy's side of the bed - we swapped sides for a bit so the girls got me and my grumpy ass - they gave up coming in pretty quick, and now only come into our room if they've had a nightmare or something

my wife is the grumpy ass in this equation. she loves her sleep.

[spike]

my kid won't sleep in her bed anymore, at least for the entire night. she either starts there then wakes us up in the middle of the night begging to hop into our bed, or like just now, scampers in fifteen minutes after settling while we're still downstairs hanging out. it's translated to not a lot of solid sleep for everyone.

Give up and go and sleep in her bed.

I’ve done that

yeah i could, but she'll still come in there and wake my ass up at 5am if it suits her.

[B]

my kid won't sleep in her bed anymore, at least for the entire night. she either starts there then wakes us up in the middle of the night begging to hop into our bed, or like just now, scampers in fifteen minutes after settling while we're still downstairs hanging out. it's translated to not a lot of solid sleep for everyone.

If my kid wants in my bed in the middle of the night, they'd better not wake me up to beg. Just get the fuck in so I can keep sleeping.

[LetMeSleep]

That's the other thing. Any tantrums then we take it away, any more and we take it all away.

As soon as they see you putting the TV in the garage they realise they can't do that shit.

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[Higgs]

That's the other thing. Any tantrums then we take it away, any more and we take it all away.

As soon as they see you putting the TV in the garage they realise they can't do that shit.

Nomoretellyty

[Higgs]

Given to cry

[spike]

I Got Fits

[spike]

I Am Whine

[spike]

Nothing As It Screams

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[spike]

Speed of Grounded

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[dad]

my kid won't sleep in her bed anymore, at least for the entire night. she either starts there then wakes us up in the middle of the night begging to hop into our bed, or like just now, scampers in fifteen minutes after settling while we're still downstairs hanging out. it's translated to not a lot of solid sleep for everyone.

We endured this for about two months then transitioned out about a month ago. We tied her ability to stay in bed to certain rewards. Took about a week of that then things were back to normal.

Our girls tried this for a wee bit - they'd always go to mummy's side of the bed - we swapped sides for a bit so the girls got me and my grumpy ass - they gave up coming in pretty quick, and now only come into our room if they've had a nightmare or something

my wife is the grumpy ass in this equation. she loves her sleep.

sounds like she realizes the importance of good sleep.

[B]

Instagram code is hard.

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CxtVTFJy ... gzODVlNw==

[washing machine]

I made the mistake of warning this pre-schooler that we could crash if I took my hands off the wheel to reach for the toy he dropped in the back seat.

"Daddy, I want you to crash."

All he thinks is that hands off the wheel means he gets his toy. Consequences be damned...

"Son, if we crash, we could get hurt or hurt someone else."

"I want to crash and get hurt."

"No you don't. Getting hurt doesn't feel good and it's my job to keep you from getting hurt."

Should have stopped there, but then a fatal mistake on my part played right into his weird little pre-k logic hands...

"Besides, sometimes crashes mean you could die."

"Daddy, I want to die."

I miss the days when he would just scream over and over again for "Jolene song" in the car.

[Bammer]

Understandable considering he lives in Houston

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[washing machine]

Yeah, it probably wasn't just this convo for him. The concept seeps in from many places. Lion King (one of his faves) comes to mind.

[spike]

Our kid asked her mom for a sister tonight.