The Truth About Bedtime...

I've considered writing this post for a while...self-consciousness, or "image management" caused me to hesitate. Yet my desire to remember trumps my desire to appear competent so the truth must be told.


Our current bedtime routine is a circus act. It is not for the faint of heart or the sane of mind. It starts out very peaceful and slowly digresses into something other-wordly...


1. We read 3 books, 1 bonus book in the bed, sing 2 songs and pray...
2. Kiss Sophia Good night. Sophia reminds me not to let Olivia (that menace) wake her.
3. Door shut.
4. Count to three...MOMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY.
5. Yes?
What follows is a series of requests/desires/complaints/thoughtful quotes/philosophical questions/bathroom trips (necessary and unnecessary)/and general observations on the state of her bedroom.


She has slept in slippers and socks, with socks on her hands, horizontally for fear of her head hitting the headboard, with seven stuffed animals, with no stuffed animals, with a night light, with the hall light on, with Vicks Vapor Rub, and (my current favorite ) in a ponytail due to the extreme hysteria produced by her hair touching her ears while she tries to sleep.


Sophia brought home her classroom newsletter this week in which the teachers reminded us to put our children to bed early as they appeared tired during class. I was horrified and ashamed. I interrogated Sophia about whether she acted tired in class...BECAUSE WE PUT YOU TO BED EARLY YOU JUST DON'T GO TO SLEEP!


Two nights ago, on one of my trips into her her room, she commented, "Mommy, you are talking in the regular voice right now." "What do you mean?" I asked. "Well, last time you came in you were talking in the "Losin' It" voice."


That is what makes me sad about bedtime and why we will go back to the Sophia Bedtime Success Chart tomorrow night. When I leave Sophia the first time I always say the same thing: "Good Night Sophia. I love you. You are my precious girl." When I leave her room 35 times later, I am huffing and puffing and yelling in the "Losin' It!" voice. I morph into some sort of Ogre of the Night and am sad that these are our last interactions before she (finally) drifts off to sleep...

Until, I am woken at 4am by"MOMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY!" And I must deliriously move her head away from the headboard or her hair away from her ears. Then I realize that she is probably not scarred - though I might be.

Sidenote: I kind of wish all of us mothering night wanderers could see each other and feel the solidarity. I often wonder who is up with me at 4am and why...
Also, if you are often up in the night I do not recommend reading books such as The Hunger Games. I found myself being chased in my dreams and then chased around the house as I made my way to my crying child. I found the book riveting but who needs that kind of stress?