Close to a million hits in less than half a second can’t be wrong – bedtimes are important for kids. And that’s a bit of problem around here, because we suck at bedtime.
But we can’t be the only ones, right?
I mean, with the exception of my one friend who, every single night, spends a good twenty minutes listening and chatting and reading and, you know, just killing the parenting game with one child while her husband does the same with the other – and then they switch – how many parents are really rocking the whole bedtime thing?
Whoever you are, tell me your secrets.
Because by about seven thirty, I’m usually still tidying up and/or folding laundry. I’m mentally tallying how many hours of work I have ahead of me. I’m thinking through tomorrow’s to-do list. I’m debating whether it’s worth setting the alarm forty minutes early so I can ride my stationary bike before the kids get up. And while all of that is happening, the very last thing I want to deal with is bedtime.
But, obviously, I want them all to be sleeping so that I have some freaking peace and quiet.
So we try.
“Bedtime, guys! Clothes in the dirty hamper and everyone up to bed!” And even though this happens five nights a week, they still seem mystified about this 8 pm bedtime thing.
“But we’re not tired!”
“Can I read?”
“Mom, will you do my hair in two French braids tomorrow? Or! I saw this hairstyle on TV, these braids that, like, wrap around your head like a crown. Can we find a tutorial and do that tomorrow, please?
“I’m hungry.”
And the logistics are a literal nightmare. If I spend ten minutes snuggling with each kiddo, that’s a good forty minutes. Forty minutes of snuggle time in a dim, quiet room is a problem, because then my brain think it’s time to wind things down for the night. And then my options are a) caffeine or b) pushing deadlines.
Oh, wait – are you about to suggest that my husband and I alternate who snuggles with which kids to chop that forty down to twenty? No good, we’ve been there, done that, had the feuding kids to prove it’s a bad call.
And then we have the wild card, the three year old, who is neither patient nor understanding about “turns.” She doesn’t care that it’s her brother’s turn, and she’ll either lay sobbing in her own room for the full five or ten or fifteen minutes I’m tucked up in his bed – ooh, relaxing – or she’ll come marching in and throw some elbows as she squeezes in.
This never goes over well with her brother.
Meanwhile, I’m mentally composing catchy blog post titles and trying not to make it obvious when I skip pages in Little Blue Truck (those board books are huge, this is nearly impossible). Our older daughter is sighing meaningfully from across the hall, where she’s sitting up in bed just waiting her turn. Our geriatric pug is barking blindly at the bottom of the
Our geriatric pug is barking blindly at the bottom of the stairs, because he’s ready for bed too, and he can no longer manage our steep staircase, and oh, the six-year-old forgot his “bedtime drink of water” and should probably swing by the bathroom again, too.
Our geriatric pug is barking blindly at the bottom of the stairs, because he’s ready for bed too, and he can no longer manage our steep staircase, and oh, the six-year-old forgot his “bedtime drink of water” and should probably swing by the bathroom again, too.
And by the time everyone’s actually in bed and no longer on the stairs or in the bathroom or detouring past the fridge, by the time we’re dropping kisses on foreheads and turning off lights and finally, finally heading downstairs, we’re both frustrated and feeling guilty about it.
Because our bedtime ritual doesn’t include fifteen minutes of one-on-one time, with three books, two hugs and a special song (damn it, Boss Baby, what kind of bar is that to set?!). More often than not, it involves some kind of threat if they don’t go to sleep right this minute, and we mean it this time!
It’s just a lot of work, after a lot of work all day long. And by the end of it all, I’m just over it all.
Now I just need to know that my friend is the weird one, and the rest of you all suck at bedtimes too.
More from MPMK
Parenting Styles: The Kid Who Doesn’t Eat
Parenting Styles: The Santa Question
Get Your Free Printable
Subscribe to our newsletter today and get our free printable... No More, "Mom, I'm Bored!"
