Sunday, December 12, 2004

Liar, Liar

It's time for me to use my blog once again as a therapy session. This is where I pour out my terrible, awful secrets in hopes that I can change my wicked ways. (I know what you're thinking, and I would just make an appointment with Sigmund, Carl, and Alfred, but the good ones never come cheap, and I have 2 children to spoil this Christmas.)

Back to my problems. I lie to my daughter. When Little Man gets old enough I will probably lie to him as well. I'm seriously ashamed of myself, but it's true, and the worst part is I will probably continue to do this until they start catching on.

The lie I tell most often pertains to her nightly need for water. You know the ol' routine: jammies on, last chance for a snack, brush the teeth, don't forget to go potty, a couple of stories, turn on the lullabies, hugs and kisses and lots of goodnights, blah blah blah. Gabriella requires a glass of water next to her bed for those middle-of-the-night thirst emergencies. (In this case it's a leak-proof sippy cup, because she's three, and loves to make messes.)

The sippy cup stays in her room, and every 3 or 4 nights we throw it in the dishwasher and get her a fresh one. The nights we "recycle" the sippy cup, she insists on "fresh water". Meaning I have to take the sippy cup, dump its contents, and refill it with fresh-from-the-tap water.

Well let me tell you that I spend all day, every day with this little girl, and by the time we get to bedtime I'm in a fairly big rush to turn that light out and hit the couch leaving her behind to dream what I'm sure must be sweet Care Bear dreams. I don't always feel like spending another 90 seconds of my day waiting on her. So on occasion, when she asks for her fresh water, I will lie to her and tell her, "This is fresh water! I refilled it while Daddy was brushing your teeth."

I know this is wrong, and do feel bad. Really I do. But seriously, can you blame me?
Name: Christine
Location: Wyoming, United States
I'm the Mom of two. They drive me crazy. I love them dearly. I want one more. I'm not insane, yet. My hubby says I'm a snob with an inferiority complex. There is more to me than being a mother. I just don't remember any of it.

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