Bedtime Routines Consist of One-Man Circus Acts

For awhile, I thought we had things all together. I thought things were working -- with our bedtime routine. But I guess I was only fooling myself. 

Last night, that "routine" felt like I was a one-man circus.

Just before 8pm, I brought L to his room. We read a couple stories, I turned on the fan and his stars, and we rocked in the semi-dark for a few minutes. I sang "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" more times than I care to remember -- its currently his favorite. 

I held him crib-side, whispered to him that I loved him while he continued to try and play -- he clearly was not with me on the idea of it being bedtime. But I laid him down anyway, tucked him in, gave him his "Doo Doo" {stuffed dog}, said my "I Love You" and left the room. 

After a battle, I finally got his sister to her room for her bedtime. Per routine, she knows she is to pick out her story and then go right to her bathroom and at least try to pee. She fought and refused, and I had to all but pick her up and sit her on the toilet myself. Finally, she relented when she saw I meant business. 

Of course, she peed. A lot. All of which probably would have wound up in the bed if I hadn't stuck with my gut on that one. We settled in her rocking chair and curled up with her story. 

I wasn't 5 pages in when I started to hear L's familiar "Mommy ... " cries. But I also knew that S needed my attention at that moment. So I continued with the story, and afterward, turned on her fan and stars, had her turn off the light and we rocked for a minute while we chatted about our day. I laid her in bed, kissed her goodnight and headed straight to L's room. 

Again. 

Hugged him, swaying back and forth with him in my arms, there beside the crib. Laid him down another time, and left. 

As soon as I got into the hall, S was running back into her bed from the hallway, feet moving as fast as she could get them to, so it wouldn't be discovered that she was already out of her bed. 

I tucked her in, reminded her she needed to stay in bed like a big girl -- but that she could watch her stars and talk to her stuffed animals if she'd like, and left. 

I was in the living room for all of 5, maybe 10 minutes when L started his fussing and crying again. I let him continue for a moment, before going back to repeat it all over. 

And over. 

And over. 

... 

And over. 

It went on for about an hour last night. 

I tried not to get frustrated ... and each time, hugged and loved on my kids, recognizing that for some reason that I couldn't see or understand, in that moment, they needed me, wanted me. Whether it be for comfort, reassurance, or a simple act of love. 

I am their Mom. And whatever they needed, they needed it from me. 




Safe to say, its not always easy. Not always fun or relaxing or entirely enjoyable. Some nights I'd like to just sit down after they are in bed and relax with a book, or watch a show without having to hit pause on the DVR 9 million times. But I know -- this won't last forever. They won't always need me, and they definitely won't always want me. So I do what is needed to calm their fears, and love them throughout the night. 

I also know this: we need to work on that bedtime routine. Because it's wearing me out!!