The Bedtime Battle
Oh the bedtime battle. Every night we return to it. It sounds like it shouldn’t be that difficult to get a few kids to fall asleep. But it is often the most challenging part of my day and takes every ounce of energy I have left. I have to be geared up, physically, mentally and emotionally armored. It’s an all out marathon. In fact, sometimes I’d rather run an actual marathon.
It hasn’t always been this way. But lately I am outnumbered 3 to 1 more often than not. And even when I’m not alone, they all seem to always want Mommy for some reason.
I think the real difficulty stems from my own mental battle. This is a time of day when I have already put in 12 hours of mothering, on average. I want so badly to be present for each of my children at this time. But I desperately need a break and a chance to reset and recharge.
I’d love to connect with them, comfort them, snuggle them, and send them off to sleep with happy, secure feelings to end their day. But realistically, I usually just don’t have it in me. So then it ends up feeling like an obstacle rather than an opportunity. These tiny, needy people are the only thing standing between me and some microscopic shred of relaxation, to finally feel like myself again.
And truthfully, there is usually a long list of things that need to be done to reset the house anyway. So to have constant delays, distractions and interruptions is maddening. It’s not uncommon for me to be fighting a battle on every front. Some nights they team up, and others they compete for my undivided attention. The list of demands is never ending.
The kids are fighting…
Someone has the wrong towel…
They can’t find their favorite pajamas…
We are out of toothpaste (Actually the entire bathroom sink is covered with toothpaste. Quite a mystery.)
Someone needs a drink…
Someone is pleading for one more book…
Hair needs to be brushed…
Someone just magically remembered an incredibly important paper in their backpack…
Someone else needs a drink…
Pillows need to be fluffed…
Someone needs a tissue…
Someone needs to go to the bathroom…
I am shocked and amazed at myself each night when I finally have succeeded. All three of them actually sleeping, some kind of miracle. I never thought it would be possible, even though I somehow accomplished the same thing the night before, and that night before that, and the night before that… no two nights are the same. Against all the odds, I eventually prevail. A momentous victory for me.
But then literally, almost the second I realize they are asleep, I miss them. I crave them. I marvel at them.
I stand there and watch them sleep and remember the tiny babies they started out as.
I think of how precious they are and always will be.
I can feel their sweet breath on my neck and their teeny tiny hands clutching my shirt in such total dependence and absolute comfort.
I take a whiff and breathe them in and my soul has found its missing piece. I stare at those brows, those lips, and wonder how such perfection could have been given to me and also made by me.
I watch their chests or backs slowly move up and down rhythmically and know that all my choices and decisions have been orchestrated to lead me to exactly the right place at exactly the right moment because here I am part of this miracle.
I was always meant to be here and I was always meant to do this. Watching them sleep my heart is full and my spirit is content.
But if they stir or start to roll over I am hitting the deck and army-crawling out of that room. Because if they happen to wake up and we have to start the whole cycle over again I will surely cry myself into a puddle of despair.
Mommy needs a minute to feel like a human again if we are going to start all over again tomorrow.
