My MIL stayed with us for two weeks. It was a good visit. We spent time together, she had plenty of quality time with the boy, and we didn't get too worked up over anything. The boy was thrilled to haver her around -- enough so that, toward the end, his sleeping habits became erratic. It would take over an hour of taking him back to bed and getting him to settle down, long after the bedtime stories and lullabies and tuck-in had happened. Naptime started to get just as hard. It ruffled my feathers to say the least.
Once she went back home, it still took a couple days to get back to normal. I think we’ve now recovered from my MIL’s visit. Bedtime is still kind of a battle, but at least he’s going down the first time instead of continually getting up.
Last night I just about blew my top – he didn’t want a bath, wouldn’t let me help him put on his nighttime diaper or jammies, refused tooth brushing completely by screaming at me… I finally yelled "That's it! You're in time out!!" and went into the other room where DH was standing. I walked past him and pounded my fists into the bed to let out some anger while our son continued to scream and cry in his room. It wasn’t a pretty scene. I was so frustrated I wanted to scream and cry myself.
Fortunately for all of us, DH took over. He went into the boy's room and shut the door. I went and sat on the couch with my head in my hands, feeling like an idiot for losing my temper. The boy continued to cry and scream for several minutes, but DH didn't give up. He stayed in there, rocking the boy in the rocking chair and just holding him until he finally settled down. Eventually the boy settled down enough that he let DH tuck him into bed -- something he has demanded exclusively from Mommy for the past two weeks -- and actually went to sleep.
And that is why my imperfect, ever-evolving, back-aching, long-suffering husband of 13 years (as of next week) is Father of the Year. This one's for you, honey.