For my eldest daughter, sleep has always been a challenge. In those early years, I secretly relished the nightly battles, as her deep need for me temporarily alleviated my guilt about spending long hours away from her at a job I didn’t enjoy. The gentle kisses I placed on her forehead and our intertwined fingers soothed my frayed emotions. Now at nine years old, sleep remains just as elusive.
“Mom, I’m just not tired,” she pouts, her lips forming a small line. “Can I read for a bit?”
“Of course, but not for too long, okay?” I reply, trying to maintain a balance.
“Mom, will you cuddle me first?” my middle daughter, Mia, calls from the bathroom counter.
I open my mouth to respond, but my youngest, Lily, interjects, “It’s not fair; she always gets the first cuddle!” I feel irritation creeping in.
“It’s alright, Lily. I’ll snuggle Mia first, but I promise to give you a longer cuddle afterward,” I murmur, striving to keep my tone even.
“Never mind, never mind! Lily can have the first cuddle,” Mia shouts as she hops off her stool.
“MAIA, you can’t do that!” Lily protests.
“Alright, alright, girls. How about a double cuddle in the bottom bunk?” I suggest, trying to mediate. Their enthusiastic response comes in the form of joyous squeals, and the sight of pajama-clad bodies diving beneath the covers.
As I clean the bathroom counter, wiping away globs of toothpaste and puddles of water around the superhero toothbrushes, I peek into Brianna’s room. “You okay?” I ask. She doesn’t look up, her finger skimming the pages of her journal. After finishing the page, she looks at me, a messy tuft of hair hanging over her glasses, and a small scab on her cheek from a tussle over a coveted toy.
“I’m fine.”
“Do you need anything?” I inquire. She shakes her head. “I’ll come in to kiss you once I’m done with the others.” She nods.
Taking a deep breath, I slip between Mia and Lily in the bottom bunk, where they clumsily jostle for space, bumping elbows and pinching knees.
“Sorry, Mom,” they whisper in unison.
“It’s okay,” I assure them. We spoon for a moment, their small hands resting on me. As one of them inadvertently tugs my hair, I can’t help but grimace. “Girls,” I warn, feeling the tension rise within me, the desire to escape from the chaos clashing with guilt. My body tightens, but just then, Mia wraps her arm around me, gently touching Lily’s hand.
“Hey, stop it! That’s my spot on Mom!” Lily hisses.
“She’s not just your mom, you know,” Mia retorts.
“Alright, let’s have a hug and a kiss before it’s time for bed, okay?” I propose, and they soften at my words. I embrace Lily first, whispering my love into her neck. She squeezes me tightly, and I lift her up, rolling us out of the bed and placing her in the top bunk. We rub noses before I turn back to Mia, who beams at me, arms wide open.
“My mama, come here!” she calls. We find ourselves nose-to-nose, and she suggests, “Let’s do cheek-to-cheek.” We comply, sharing a soft kiss, then a medium one, and finally a playful hard kiss that always leaves her teeth clashing with my lip. I wince but pull away, saying, “Goodnight, girls.”
As I leave the room, their calls of “love you” resonate behind me. My shoulders relax; I’m finally done.
In Brianna’s dimly lit room, her glasses rest lens-side down on the nightstand. I tiptoe over, brushing hair from her eyes and planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. As I turn to leave, her arms wrap around my neck.
“Mom, please don’t go.”
I stifle a whimper. I was so close to the end of the day. “What is it, sweetheart?”
“I just can’t sleep,” she admits. My body is turned away, my mind already drifting towards the candle flickering downstairs and my favorite chair. Wine, perhaps tea. The fire crackling softly. My evening ritual.
She watches me intently, and for a fleeting moment, I feel a selfish desire for my own time. But then, something shifts within me, not out of duty or shame, but from the familiar pull I felt when she was a baby. “Scoot over,” I whisper, crawling beside her.
“Do you want me to rub your back?” she asks hopefully.
I chuckle softly. “No, sweet girl. You know what I want?” She shakes her head. “I just want to fall asleep with you for a little while.”
The moonlight fills the room with a gentle hue, and as her breathing steadies and she drifts off, a tear escapes my eye. I have no idea where this moment of tenderness emerged from, nor do I expect it to last until the next bedtime. But tonight, for this moment, I’ve managed to embrace the beauty of loving bedtime once again.
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Summary
This heartfelt narrative recounts the bedtime routine of a mother navigating her daughters’ sleep struggles. Despite the challenges and emotional turmoil, she finds moments of connection that remind her of the joys of motherhood. Emphasizing the importance of cherishing these fleeting moments, the story highlights the complexity of parenting, love, and the bittersweet nature of growing up.