Why can't I just go back to bed?

Mornings have become a terror again in the Q household. I blame vacation. A week of no bedtimes, late risings, and non-stop sleep arrangement-shifting has left Izzy a very grouchy, dissatisfied customer. Every day is a challenge to wake her up. Every day is an even BIGGER challenge to get her to actually GET UP and get dressed. Keith and Mary and I all run around getting our clothes on and breakfasts eaten and teeth brushed and lunches packed (er--that's for ME)--and Izzy will still be sitting there on her bed, completely ignoring the pile of clothes I've laid out for her. Sometimes she may have made enough progress to get her pajamas off so that then she's sitting on her bed NAKED while the rest of us are getting our shoes on.

Ugh.

Nights are no better as she fights to get pajamas on also. And then she wants to sleep in bed with me. And then she wants me to sleep with her. And then she turns the closet light off. And then she yells to have it turned back ON. And then we'll check on her at 11:00, and she's still playing with the Old School Little People I brought home from my toy collection out of my Dad's garage. Seriously, kid. GO. TO. SLEEP!

Double Ugh.

After trying to be nice and patient (last night I was so fed up that she went to bed in her clothes--seriously, does it really MATTER if she's in PJs?), this morning I dug my heels in. No more Mr. Nice Mommy. I sat down and started the ENDLESS NEEDLING. Seriously, there are just some moments that you realize that all the niceness and patience in the world is getting you nothing but a spoiled little kid who OMG, I KNOW SHE'S ONLY FOUR, BUT SHE IS GOING TO KINDERGARTEN IN THE FALL AND NEEDS TO GET WITH THE GET-YOUR-BUTT-OUT-OF-BED-AND-GET-MOVING PROGRAM, PRONTO! So...this morning I basically kept at her until she did what she was supposed to do.

Now, listen. I WAS nice. I'm all about waking my kids gently and asking them to get dressed kindly the first two or three attempts. But she didn't listen and didn't listen, and then the buck stopped THERE. And despite needing to pack my lunch and having to track down Mary's softball uniform for her scrimmage tonight (I'm still one sock short!), I stayed by the side of that bed and kept on her until she finally got her little butt OUT of bed and finally got those clothes on. At one point Mary says, "Why are you being so mean to her, Mom?" Oh, honey. You should know by now that this is NOT Mean Mommy (she's seen Mean Mommy way too many times to ask such a silly question!). That was DETERMINED MOMMY. Determined NOT to let the four-year old continue to rule our mornings (seriously, I was still being NICE here--nice, but FIRM).

And I remembered when I was pregnant with Keith. Mary was just turning two. I taught Mary how to dress herself, and I sat there and I watched her and I was FIRM with her that SHE needed to do this. Mommy is here to HELP--Mommy is not here to DO. (And
Mommy was overwhelmed with the thought of trying to dress TWO kids for daycare in the morning.) Poor Mary--first child who ha(d)s all the stern rules. Poor Izzy--the baby of the family who has apparently been babied too long.

The firm hand has succeeded with Izzy previously. As much as I hate doing it, I'm hoping it will work with this power struggle, also.

Sorry, little one. Vacation is OVER, and everyday life is BACK.