Polka Dots on My Tummy

So since we're on the subject of Caroline, I figured I'd finally write the post I've been promising for some time. I better do it now before my momnesia kicks in and I can't remember all the little, but oh-so-important, details.

You see, Caroline has had some quirky little rituals that she implemented in her bedtime routine around age two or so. Even though I knew that the steps she insisted both she and I take as she went to bed were more about control than anything else, the insanity it created in me had me thinking she was showing signs of obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD). It wasn't until I uncovered some material about what to watch for in your children as they grow older...milestones, if you will...did I finally feel better about things. Apparently, around age 2-3 some children will concoct "elaborate and rigid rituals". Ahh, my kid is normal! Yeah, whatever that means.

Her ritual has since changed a bit since moving into a big girl bed and getting rid of bottles. And the ritual was, and continues to be, an evolving process where she adds and tweaks things as she deems necessary....constantly keeping me on my toes!

Here's how the original incarnation played out (for the most part):

First she would tell me to, "sit on the chair and watch me" as she climbed ("BY HERSELF') over her crib rails and balanced on her head before toppling over. Then you had to say, "Way to Go!" or "Good Job!" After that you had to place her bottle on the very edge of the table by her crib so it was almost teetering off, and then let her grab it "BY HERSELF!" At some point she added the new "lick the finger, wipe it on her wrist and then swirl it around the nipple" (the bottle's, not hers) action before she plopped down in her crib. Then you had to put Bobby (her stuffed teddy bear) in the bottom left corner of her bed sitting up. If he even slouched just a bit that would prompt screams and frustration from her until you fixed it. Then Duckie had to be up by her head which was to be on her C pillow placed in the right corner of her headboard on the north side of her bed. Then you had to put her "star blanket" on her (not any other blanket could be in her bed whatsoever) and you had to do it with the "POLKA DOTS ON MY TUMMY!"

When that was all done you couldn't just kiss her goodnight and leave the room. Nope, you had to (in this order) first bend down outside the crib so that you were level with her head and kiss her through the slats ("Kiss down here"). But not just any slat....it had to be the second slat from the end. Then you had to stand up, bend over the crib rail and give her a hug ("Hugs up here") while she was still laying down. But you couldn't groan, or make "mmm, mmm" sounds while you did it.

If you did any of these things out of order or God forbid, you weren't sitting on the rocking chair in time, you had to start over from the beginning. It's reminiscent of the sacrament prayer at church and the poor kids who messed up on the prayer in even the slightest way and had to start from the very beginning until they got it perfectly right.

That was pretty much the ritual (with few variations once in a while) until several months later when she threw in a surprise attack. One particularly hairy night when nerves were shot for all parties, she threw me a curve ball after all this madness and as I closing the door, she screamed, "Bonk the door!"

"What?!" I said half screaming (ok, not really....I was screaming). She repeated it and repeated it and repeated it, because I couldn't make sense of what she was demanding. Finally I told her she was going to have to show me what the hell she was talking about. (I was fried at this point and not very cool and collected).

She promptly got out of bed and ran over to the door and hit it so it "bonked" against the wall. Again, this was totally a surprise attack and something she just dreamed up on the spot. It was part of the process ever since until she modified it with "in the hole." That one took some demonstration too and I learned that it wasn't good enough for me to simply bonk the door. No, I had to do it "in the hole" which meant that it had to be somewhere lower than the doorknob where I hit my hand. Yes, can you say 'CRAZY'? I was seriously thinking she was losing it at this point, as I'm sure you are reading this.

The whole time this madness went on every night (and still does), litte Ava just laid quietly in her bed waiting for it to be over. She never says a word and is perfectly content to just lay on her bumper, pick a few tickle tags (more on those later) and go to sleep.

So, this was pretty much the ritual for some time until big girl beds came into the picture, then it all had to be revamped as we didn't have rails for her to climb over, kiss through and hug over and no bottles to grab. We then graduated to covering her toes with her star blanket and the "love you to pieces" list.

The "love you to pieces" list was her replacement for the above antics and one she derived from my nightly ritual of telling them that I loved them to pieces before I shut the door. Now she methodically goes through a list of people, animals (real and almost-real), and things that I have to say, "love you to pieces" to before I am excused. Of course, this is an ever-evolving list. It goes something like this:

"Say love you to pieces to me, say love you to pieces to Duckie, say love you to pieces to Ava, say love you to pieces to yourself, and go in the kitchen and tell Biggie love you to pieces real loud so I can hear you and call Dad on the phone and tell him love you to pieces."

I have to allow her to say all of this without interruption or we start all over again. On another difficult night when my patience was wearing dangerously thin and she was lengthening the list of love yous, I thought to myself as she stuttered to think of a new item that she was going to tell me to say "love you to pieces" to the wall. And I kid you not, that's the very next thing that came out of her mouth!! I drew the line on that one and said I would not tell the wall that I loved it to pieces. (Have to admit that I do throw it in now and then purely in jest...and we both get a chuckle out of it)

Why do I indulge this madness, you ask? Well, if I ignored it I would suffer hours of crying and screaming. And when the only break I get is at bedtime, I am anxious for my "me" time to begin with as much peace as possible. I figure that the few minutes of mayhem I have to endure to keep the peace and keep her happy is worth it.

I just keep telling myself, "this too shall pass." And one day I might just miss it.....

"Love you to pieces, Caroline! "