Just Erika vs. The Door

Every night we battle with our little man over bedtime.  He has a certain zest for life and has made it his mission to live each day to the fullest.  And by fullest, I really mean longest.  A very loving and polite child all day long suddenly becomes a Category 5 hurricane ready to make landfall with full devastation at the mere mention of "bedtime."  If scientists ever wanted to do research on the effects of certain words on preschoolers, I suggest they come to my home around 7:30 every night with all their scientific equipment (please don't forget to bring the seismic monitors to measure how much the building shakes) and watch as we hide safely behind large furniture and yell out "bedtime."  It is much like hiding behind a rock in a lion's den and throwing out a firecracker instead of a piece of meat.  I dare the scientists to come experience the fun!

And yet, we have managed in this bedtime madness to find an acceptable rhythm most nights.  I say "most nights" because let's face it, he is 3 which means he is as predictable as an earthquake...one night it works and the next night we are in the midst of a full-fledged 8.0 bedtime "quake" complete with screams, cries, toys being thrown and neighbors wondering what kind of party we are throwing upstairs.  I wouldn't trade this experience for anything!

But, despite this nightly battle, it is far from the real war I wage every night. The real war is with my son's bedroom door.  You see, no matter how the bedtime routine went down, whether as peaceful as a Thomas Kinkade painting or as wild as a Jackson Pollack, when the child is asleep it becomes my sole mission to make sure he stays asleep.  What good is a battle won if the opposing soldiers rise up again?  I have become very agile at getting up from H's bed without shaking it too hard (although truth be told it sometimes takes my husband coming in to give me a hand.)  I have gotten to be very light on my feet walking to the door as though the whole floor was made of thin ice and the mere sound of it cracking might send the polar bear growling out of his slumber.  And then I get to the door.

No matter how slowly, quickly, gently, or forcefully I open and shut the door, it essentially yells out at the top of its lungs, "SHE'S LEAVING!!! YOUR MOMMY IS LEAVING THE ROOM!!!"  Nothing aggravates me more than the possibility that an inanimate object might throw a proverbial wrench in my plans to veg out on the couch with my hubby and watch way too many episodes of 24.  I swear the door is secretly laughing at me when it sees me approaching in the dark.  I quickly announce to the hubby that I need WD-40 ASAP.  Of course we don't own any WD-40 so I inevitably forget all about the evil door until the next time it screams, "SHE'S LEAVING!!! YOUR MOMMY IS LEAVING THE ROOM!!!"

And then last night, while H was still fighting his battle against the impending bedtime, I was fighting the war against the door.  No WD-40? No problem!!  We now have a very Italian bedroom door as I covered the hinges with olive oil while literally laughing at the door and saying in my most adult voice ever (NOT!), "HAHAHAHA! LET'S SEE WHAT YOU GOT NOW, DOOR!!"

I WIN!!!

Comments

Unknown said…
I know your pain. At least he stays there through the night. S (4) still comes into our bed every night. When we close the door, she quietly opens it, closes it behind her and sneaks in at the foot of the bed, climbing ever so silently in between us. Some nights, we wake up with a foot in our back, head or shoved into our pajamas, some mornings we wake up wondering when and how she sneaked in at all. Good Luck, and way to go on the improvisation to fix that squeaky door.
mariska said…
I think we may have a family member of your door at our house!!! We have the same problem with Malayna's door!!!