Peacock Lane

Peacock Lane is a street of houses in Southeast Portland that, at Christmastime, is filled with over-the-top decorations and lights that are worth a detour. I had been dying to take Rachel sometime this month, and tonight I got my chance.

She gasped and oohed and aahed at all the festivity, and she insisted on trying to take a picture, so I finally gave her my Droid and let her shoot. She did a pretty good job and I'd like to encourage the habit, so I'll probably hand her my real digital camera this weekend (when we'll be at Anne and David and Jean's) and let her try a few.

Otherwise, parts of the day were a little rough. As I was dropping her off at preschool today, she leaned in to me and said, "My biggest wish is for you to go back home and bring me Dottie (her stuffed orca)." I was tempted to -- I'm working from home at a relaxed pace this week because I'm really not supposed to be working at all -- but I decided to hold firm and said no. It was so hard to watch her eyes well up and have her start sobbing, but I don't want her to get the idea that Mommy will just run home and get whatever she forgot for school. Soon enough she'll have homework, and science projects, and the sooner she learns she has to assume responsibility, the better.

That still didn't stop me from feeling like a Mean Old Mommy, however.

At bedtime I agreed to read her a long book, and I read the entire Nutcracker and she started her delaying tactics again -- hugging, cuddling, trying to tell me things -- until, after 10 minutes, I told her that I was getting very frustrated with her, especially since SHE was the one who told me she wanted to get to bed early because she didn't want to be cranky (and I am sick and tired of not getting her to bed until 10, which is way too late for a little girl to be up at night). She started crying and said, "I don't like being scolded," and I said I didn't like it when she didn't listen. I cuddled in bed with her for a bit and sang, but then she started whining about how she really wanted to sleep in my bed, because my bed is more comfortable, especially our gold duvet cover, and I had had enough. I got up, went to the door and told her sternly that if she kept complaining, she wouldn't get books at bedtime anymore. "Do you understand?" I said firmly. When she didn't answer I said, "I can't hear you," and she said, "yes," and started snuffling, and I just closed the door without saying "I love you" or any of my usual nighttime sentiments.

Sometimes I feel I don't have enough patience with Rachel, or at least as much patience as Drew seems to have, but I told her I had work to do (and it's true, the only time I get things done around here when Drew is gone is when Rachel goes to bed) and it angers me when that doesn't register.

I still felt remorseful, though, and after 10 minutes or so of hearing her talking to herself I opened the door. Good thing I did -- she was sitting up in bed talking to Sophie, one of her dolls, and when I asked her what she was doing she said she didn't feel tired. I tucked her in with Sophie, her pink penguin, "the orcas, the dolls..." she said, reciting all her little friends she goes to sleep with -- kissed her, and then she hugged me close, and that was that.