The Marshmallow Shakedown

Happy New Year! In light of making extensive lists of resolutions no sane person will ever be able to keep, I've made a couple. Some are just practical and include orders of chicken wire to create a larger playpen for the monsters (or a cage for the fight to the death - perspective, people!). Others involve healthier eating, getting in shape and other goals that make me vomit a little in my mouth. Let's be straight with each other. There should never be a single day without chocolate and people that think differently are either aliens or morally bereft. Either way - you are NOT to be trusted.

Anyhoo, the only goal applicable to this blog is my goal to write - frequently, pervasively, and often enough that I invade your very brain and should you wake up in a cold sweat, dreaming about toddlers lurking over your bed, Spiderman-style, I've succeeded!

Speaking of dreams, on a totally different tangent, I woke up in my own cold sweat the other night after having a mom nightmare. You know what I mean. A mom nightmare is something that terrifies only a mom and would have just seemed bizarre to your pre-mom self. I woke up in a cold sweat after dreaming that I found lice the size of maggots in Savannah's hair and we had just gotten back from a play date with twenty other kids and the lice were crawling across her scalp and over my hands and the phone started to ring with the calls of angry parents, enraged with their newly infected children.

COULD. NOT. SLEEP. AFTER. THAT.

And yes, I did go and check all their scalps in the middle of the night. Luckily, they will for the most part, go back to sleep, with the exception of Drew, the Incredible Sleepless Wonder. The Sandman and I are going to need to work something out about that boy. If I get picked up on a corner by the po-po, with a bag of glittery dust - well, you draw your own conclusions. As previously established - I AM NOT CRAZY!

So, my children have learned the fine art of bribery, er, tangible motivation. This really began with the marshmallow addiction that has begun to run rampant in our house. I bought them as potty training incentives. Yeah. Didn't work so well. Opportunity to be nude and dance around the potty still stronger than urge to actually USE the potty. We had two potty successes and I rewarded them liberally because, duh, I wanted to set a precedent. Use the potty = get fluffy yumminess. Simple, right?

Nope. Like introducing crack. All of sudden, I was stalked around the house, with the plea for "more masmallows" echoing out of every corner. No place was safe. Even while in the bathroom, with the door locked, little fingers wiggled under the crack, pushing the marshmallow cry towards me.

After a long day of children and chaos and Abby attempting to eat snow that had definitely been tramped on by at least three hundred other people outside the gym, I was putting the munchkins to bed, mentally salivating over a yet unmade cup of hot chocolate. The munchkins weren't going for it. Drew was already out cold but the girls, this bed thing was not on their agenda and had not been approved for mass application and in fact, they were going to get up now, little legs swinging over the crib rails. I played defense and shoved legs back as quick as they came over but that soon dissolved into mad giggles where they scrambled to make me scramble even more.

Finally, in a moment of absolute desperation, I played my trump card.

"Do you want to have a marshmallow in the morning?!"

An enthusiastic dual chorus of "Yeah! Yeah!" emerged.

"Than you have to lay down and go night-night, okay? Here. I'll cover you up. Lay down." Savannah went down with little argument after arranging her thirty-five lovies around her. She is a candidate for "Hoarders - the Toddler Years" but that is another tale for another night.

Abby stood in the crib, staring me down. She'd heard the marshmallow promises before, betrayed by Mommy's yet undiagnosed case of ADHD.

"Lay down, baby. Mommy will tuck you in."

She stared at me, eyes narrowed.

"Do you want a marshmallow tomorrow? You have to lay down and go night-night if you want a marshmallow tomorrow."

Abby laid down and permitted me to arrange her blanket over her. As I leaned down to kiss her, she thrust her pudgy little hand into my face, fingers splayed.

"Fide masmallows!"

I choked.

"You want five marshmallows tomorrow?"

She nodded triumphantly and repeated her demands, "Fide masmallows!"

The gleam in her eyes said quite clearly, "I had a three hour nap and we can play this little game for at least two more hours."

Plus, I'm pretty sure she could read the exhaustion and desire to escape to the couch in mine.

"Okay. Five marshmallows. After you go night-night."

She smiled, a little satisfied smile and permitted me to kiss her good-night.

The next morning.....

I entered, "Good morning, babies! Ready to get up?"

Savannah bounced, "Yeah! Yeah! Get me out of here!"

Abby bounced, "Fide masmallows! Fide masmallows!"

Really!?! Neither sleep nor waking will stop her from her negotiated wages. I paid my marshmallow dues and thought it would be the end of it. However....

Like the mob, she has never forgotten and the marshmallow payment schedule has been considerably accelerated. Run. Save yourselves. I may never get out.