Manipulation Station

Turns out clocking four and a half hours of exercise yesterday may have been overkill. We (me and the foster kiddo I'm providing respite care for this week) certainly were both overtired today. Between that and a rain shower that killed our long morning walk, we only had about two hours total of exercise today. And I was so tired that I let her watch a movie before and then after dinner (just one short movie, with a break in the middle for dinner).

Something about all of those factors was a recipe for tearsville. She demanded to sleep in my room; I refused to budge (nicely and lovingly, but unwaveringly). It should have been heartbreaking. She was expressing loneliness and fear, and my heart should have simply melted into a puddle of compassion. It didn't. And I don't think that's because I am a heartless, cruel, and selfish woman who yearns for the hours in which I get to sleep alone and unkicked (though that last bit is certainly true). I think it's because I knew it wasn't entirely genuine.

If I were faced with a child who was legitimately lonely or fearful, I'd like to think I would come up with some sort of self-sacrificing compromise (like offering to sleep upstairs on the couch outside her room). But in the world of kids from hard places, it can be hard to tell what is true need and what is fatigue, overstimulation, or manipulation.

I had some clues:

1. She unfailingly sleeps like a rock from the moment I finish the bedtime ritual.
2. There is a baby monitor between her room and mine, and she knows I will come when she calls.
3. This is her sixth night here, and she has never had any fear or loneliness at bedtime before.
4. She cried actual tears only when she was looking at herself in the mirror, and stayed in the bathroom as long as she could to watch herself cry. (this was the biggest clue--a child who loves to watch herself cry is probably not really that upset)
5. She stopped cold as soon as I began to read our bedtime book. (real crying has a wind-down period)
6. She had well-practiced stock responses to some of my suggestions, which she emitted long before I had offered them. For example, "I need something ALIVE!" came out several minutes before I reminded her of the stuffed toys she sleeps with.

If a child is truly frightened in the night, then I believe you should comfort her. If, however, what the child needs most is sleep, then I'm not going to sacrifice my night of sleep to give her something that will actually impede her ability to sleep. Plus, the ramifications of my not sleeping will be far more disastrous than a ten minute tear fest at bedtime.

Compassionate or cold, I responded the only way I could. She fell asleep the minute I walked out the door.