#BlogSmallJoys: Cheryl’s Love/Hate Relationship with Bedtime
It’s March Break, and I’ve once again dropped my blogger ball. I forgot to post Cheryl’s wonderful #BlogSmallJoys submission on Monday (and then again on Tuesday, and oh, also on Wednesday). But here it is! And it’s a really great one, so I’m happy she submitted it. I met Cheryl thanks to Twitter, and she’s one of the amazing people who I’ve met in the wonderful online space who’ve turned into in-person friends, too.
Let’s talk bedtime shall we? I have such a love / hate relationship with bed time at our house. On a perfect day I love the routine of bedtime- bath, brush teeth, read stories, snuggle and tell mushy stories, and say our ‘I love yous’. And on those days, despite my to do list, I don’t rush it. My oldest, always at the end of the day wants to recount every single thing that has happened to him that day. I pause, I smile, I listen. I am patient. Similarly, my youngest likes for me lie in bed with her until she falls asleep. On perfect days I lie there contently, relishing in her innocence, reflecting how amazing this time is; because I know it is fleeting. I know there will come a time where she doesn’t need me to lie there anymore. So I stay, I rub her back, and I sing. I am content.
On less than perfect days (which, less face it some weeks far outweigh the perfect ones) I am thinking about my mile long to do list. I am irritated by the whining, I am READY for bed. Last minute requests for itches, granola bars and milk send me over the edge and minutes, which seem like hours later I am muttering “Go the F&*K to Sleep” in my head. On these days I am spent. I am over the routine, I am craving my own time. I need that hour or two to myself to rejuvenate.
No matter what type of day it is, before bed I always go into the kids’ rooms, adjust their covers and give them a kiss. I stare at them for a moment and every. single. time I am overwhelmed with emotion. How perfect they are. How lucky we are. Hopes, wishes, dreams; they all flood me. I always head into my bedroom and whisper to my husband, “we’re so lucky”, or “they’re such good kids”. The events of the evening of gone… time outs forgotten, fighting a distant memory. In that moment they are the future, and the future couldn’t be more bright. It is the most wonderful way to end the day and I am so grateful for the opportunity.