I adore my children. That’s a fact. They mean the world to me, and I can’t envision life without them.
But let’s be honest.
What I don’t enjoy is the nightly ritual of putting them to bed. In fact, I absolutely dread it.
A close friend recently confessed that she relishes tucking her kids in at night and eagerly anticipates this time together. Honestly, I sometimes question why I’m still friends with her; she makes me feel like a failure as a mother.
Does this make me a bad mom? As the clock strikes 6:00 PM, I find myself anxiously watching the minutes tick by, practically feeling my heart race in anticipation of bedtime. From dawn until dusk, I juggle countless roles: cheerleader, chef, timekeeper, referee, chauffeur, therapist, educator, cleaner, laundry manager, grocery shopper, negotiator, event planner, and so much more. I’m constantly on the go, and honestly, I could really use a 15-minute break that doesn’t involve hiding in the bathroom while my kids knock and ask what I’m doing.
I’m sure many will judge me for wanting to skip one more bedtime story, choosing instead to pour myself a glass of wine and reflect in peace on the chaos of the day.
Our Bedtime Routine
Here’s a peek into our bedtime routine: First, I read at least three books per child (they always select the longest ones, naturally), supervise the bathroom routine (which always results in a logjam at the sink), and then escort them to their rooms amid a symphony of protests. I remind them endlessly that bedtime is non-negotiable—spoiler alert: they never win. Why must we endure the same exhausting sequence every single night? Can’t we just agree that some self-reflection would benefit us all?
Once they are finally settled in their rooms, I attempt to “suck” the nightmares out of their heads, convincing them I have some magical power over their fears. After tucking them in snugly, showering them with hugs and kisses, and whispering sweet nothings, I creep backward out of their rooms, praying for silence until morning. Just as I think I’m free, one of my children suddenly remembers something “really important” and it’s back to square one.
This ping-pong game continues, leaving me feeling like a worn-out ping pong ball bouncing from room to room, desperately trying to suppress my urge to scream, “GO TO SLEEP!” I’m exhausted and ready to call it quits, but I hold on until they finally drift off.
After they’re asleep, I spend the next couple of hours preparing for the next day—packing lunches, ensuring their wet snow pants are hung up to dry, filling out permission slips, and trying to enjoy just enough wine to avoid a headache but not so much that I dwell on how quickly they’re growing up. The bedtime routine I dread transforms into a bittersweet moment I’ll miss when they’re older—sigh.
Resources for Parents
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In summary, while I cherish my children deeply, the nightly battle of getting them to sleep is a challenge I’d gladly trade for some quiet time. I work tirelessly throughout the day as their caretaker, and all I long for is a moment to breathe before diving back into the chaos of parenting.