Finding a balance...

I went out with a couple of girlfriends three weekends ago. It was amazing having some grown up time, and eating a civilised meal without having food smeared on me afterwards by a sneaky child pretending to hug me, but actually using me as an oversized napkin.

Prior to this, Pickles and Puds had been on a mission to wipe our sanity from us. ALL. DAY. We had tried to give them attention and play with them, but there were other jobs and errands that could not be put off. I could see her disappointment as I told Pickles for the umpteenth time to wait, to be patient, to stop nagging me, and that I would bake the cake I had promised with her after I had cleared the kitchen table. Which was taking far longer than anticipated because of constant interuptions from both her and Puds.

When I got back from my evening out I asked Chris how bedtime had gone. Puds had cried and screamed for me as I was leaving, and Pickles had been in her usual bedtime state of hyperactivity. Expecting the worst, he surpised me by saying that it had actually been great. After a big cuddle, Pickles had joined Puds for his bedtime time story, and even given him a kiss goodnight (I swear there must have been pigs soaring in the sky that night!). Puds settled straight to sleep in bed, and didn't make a peep until morning.

As it was a Saturday night, Chris decided to do something a little out of routine for Pickles' bedtime. Pickles can talk for England. I'm not exaggerating, I've had strangers come up to me and comment that "she likes a chat doesn't she?!", and some of her quieter friends often stand in stunned silence as she talks at them, rather than to them. She has a lot to say, but two way conversation is still a skill of hers we are trying to work on.

Anyway, that evening Chris decided that after settling Pickles into bed, instead of our usual negotiations of trying to get her to be quiet and relax, he would just let her talk. He would respond and prompt where needed, but he would just let her go for it and see what happened. The result when I got home, was presented to me in the form of a fast asleep little girl, and a twenty five minute recording on his phone of their converstation.

As I was listening to it, I started to feel a bit sad, and rather disappointed in myself. Pickles has the most amazing imagination. She is so creative and hungry for knowledge, that it all bubbles up in her and often bursts out in one big chaotic explosion of mixed up monologues and random questions. By letting her talk with no time limit she was able to order her thoughts better and relax knowing she could ask as many questions as she wanted to. I don't let her do this enough. We often talk in the car on the way somewhere, but our conversations are inevitably cut off when we arrive at our destination. Puds is always with us at home so she is always interrupted by his needs and jealousy that Pickles is getting attention and not him. I never give her time to just run her thoughts to the end.

This is probably because at the end of a long day all I want to do is have some time to myself without having to talk to anyone. I love being alone, whereas my children are still too little to appreciate this small joy and want to be with me. So I rush bedtime. I cut Pickles off and tell her "no more questions until morning", knowing full well she would have forgotten by then. I can see she is disappointed, but I just can’t seem to bring myself to have the patience for more talking and listening, when it's all I've been doing all day.

I need to find a balance. One where I can let Puds have the attention he craves and Pickles have the full conversation she deserves, both without time limits and pressures, but not so much that I lose my patience and push them away. It's not yet one of my better skills, and is definitely something I need to work on. As I say to Pickles and Puds; perhaps it will just take a bit more practice.