I hear Effie's cries from her bedroom. I do not check. Its quiet time. She wasn't obeying...I don't care why she is hurt. Okay. Perhaps this is a bit too natural woman of me, but am I the only one who has no tolerance for shenanigans gone wrong during periods of disobedience? Her cries are now intermittent, still a plea for me to check on her so that she can gain sympathy where none exists. Feeling a bit softer, I will go.
I enter. She sees me, begins to sob, "I hurt myself." "I can see that you did" and I help her climb up into bed; I assume she slipped since I did not ask. She shows me her leg, which I kiss, though see no evidence of injury. I ask her to rest until its time to take Ava to ballet. All is well. All is quiet. For now.
I hear her wind chimes. She bought them at the Maritime Museum in San Diego this summer as a Father's Day present for Jason. Then insisted they hang in her room, next to her top-bunk bed. Perhaps we will have no quiet time after all. Again.
I insist upon this ritual- one hour of quiet time every day. My anger grows as I seek to enforce my will upon them. It would be easier to let them watch a movie every afternoon; more would actually fall asleep, more would be quiet. Why do I bother? Upon examination I am not sure. Will reevaluate and determine why I feel I need this time away from them, besides the fact that I feel I need some time away from them.
The quiet time cd just ended. It is actually quiet; two out of four asleep. Unfortunately, quiet time is over and I need to get everyone ready for a trip to town and for Ava to go to ballet. Like I said, perhaps time to reevaluate and redirect my efforts.
