I am currently in time-out where my husband put me. And I don’t mean the playful kind where you go shopping or to the bar with your other mom friends who are also in need of a Mommy Time-Out. I’m talking about the same kind of time-out we put our 3 year old in when he’s made bad choices. I’m basically a prisoner in my own home who is about to run out of wine and battery power on her laptop. I’ve watched enough episodes of Locked Up and Orange is the New Black that I could probably figure out how to ferment my own urine into alcohol and jimmy rig some wires from the baby monitor to charge my laptop battery if I get really desperate; or I could march my sorry grown ass downstairs, apologize to the hubs while I reach beside him to grab the charger, and then swing through the kitchen for the Black Box of Chardonnay in the fridge, but…that feels like a lot more work at the moment. He already put the kids to bed so I got nothing but time and pride to kill. In the interest of doing both, here’s what landed me in the joint in the first place…

It’s all Caillou’s fault really. It was 8:00 by the time we left the Maple Grove Days parade – soaking wet from getting caught in the rain, no less. I forewarned Deklan it was already bedtime so when we got home we would need to change into dry clothes and get ready for bed. I barely finished my thought before he started whining that he wants to watch Caillou when he gets home. Um no. I am definitely not in the mood for that kid. Clearly unhappy with my response, he proceeds to kick his wet soled shoes all over the back of the passenger seat while screaming that he wasn’t tired, he WAS going to watch Caillou, and he wanted daddy because mommy was saying mean things to him. If me saying that I don’t like Caillou because he’s whiny and you become whiny when you watch too much of him is mean, then yeah, guilty as charged, Kid. When we finally pull into the garage he won’t even let me unbuckle him because he wants daddy to do it. Like, seriously dude? So let me get this straight: mommy can open copious amounts of Tootsie Roll wrappers for you while we sit and watch a mediocre parade in the rain, but she can’t get you out of the car? And mommy can somehow manage to keep Carter and your clothes out of harms way while you wildly spray your urine all over the tree in some random person’s yard mid-parade because heaven forbid we go to the bathroom BEFORE we leave the house, but I can’t get you out of the car?  I get no love.

I unbuckle him despite his protests and he tears out of the car and into the arms of his beloved daddy. Mere seconds later he asks to watch Caillou on his phone. I quickly jump in to let daddy know Deklan and I already talked about it on the way home and it is bedtime so we are not going to watch Caillou tonight, but we can read 2 books. “I’M NOT TALKING TO YOU, I’M TALKING TO DADDY!” screamed Caillou’s doppelganger.

All summer long bedtime has been a battle because we’ve let him stay up later than normal doing fun things so this isn’t new behavior, it’s just behavior that some days I can’t handle as well as others. Today happened to be one of those days I couldn’t handle it. I was chilled from the rain, bloated from the Chic-fil-a I picked up on the way to the parade, upset over my new hair color that turned out about 3 shades darker than I expected, and slightly bitter that Deklan is almost 4 and we are still deep in the daddy-obsessed phase he started around age 1. “This too shall pass,” they all say. Wrong. You are all wrong.

The battle continues for another hour in which time he claims I am only making him “more sad, Mommy!” so eventually with little fight left in us Chris suggests I “punch out” for the night. Deklan hears him say this to me and asks innocently: “Daddy, why are you telling mommy to punch out? Who is she punching?” Like a blow to the chest you suddenly realize he has probably been listening to every angered remark you’ve made to your husband about how ridiculous this whole situation is, and that you are convinced most children don’t act this crazy over not being able to watch Caillou, and why does he always get to play the Good Cop? It was apparent I did in fact need a time-out because I certainly wasn’t helping the situation and since Deklan aka “the Mayor” picks up on EV.ER.Y.THING it was probably for the best I just walked away. So I took my laptop and my glass of wine up to my room until I could get back to a better spot. Or until I ran out of wine and battery power – whichever way you want to look at it, but my point here is that eventually I apologized to the hubs, kissed my sleeping babies one last time, and forgave myself for punching out because parenting is hard, you guys, and sometimes you just need someone to put you in time-out.

Bottoms up!