bedtime (the musical)

(Alright, so there really isn't any music.  At least, not that you can hear...)

Home from work and school.  

Dinner.

Homework.

Bath time.

Then, bed.

(Enter stage left) - The oldest child - After erasing today's date from his wall calendar (dry erase), he climbs up the ladder of his bunk bed.  Off to bed he goes.  Then back down the steps to ask a parent to come and chat for a while.  This is followed by a few minutes of silliness, laughter, "what if" scenarios, stories of dreams for his future.

(Cue hazy bubble for flashback) - Mom recalls night after night of this child crying out of sheer, raw fear.  After falling asleep with a parent at his side, he wakes in the darkness and runs wildly into our room.  Shaking, we walk him back to his room - once, then twice.  After the third time, he ends up in our bed.  Ah, sleep at last.

(Back to present) - Now he falls asleep alone.  Comfortably. Feeling safe.  There is a peace about this change.  A beautiful peace.

(Enter stage right) - The girls' room - The older daughter yawns with exhaustion.  Her eyes are heavy and she wants sleep desperately.  The younger daughter, having had a good long nap this afternoon, sits on the floor in a pile of stuffed animals playing.  She moves (not so quietly) to the mound of books she's set on the bed for a parent to read.  Growing impatient, she moves (quite loudly this time) to the markers and coloring books at the corner of the bed.  

The older daughter grows frustrated and fights back tears. "All I want to do is sleep.  Be quiet!"

When a parent arrives and settles into bed in between the girls (at this point, two twin beds are pushed together to allow for multiple bodies to fill them each night), the youngest nags and utters excitedly for him to read a book.  Reading follows.  And more reading follows.  And now at least two children are asleep.  The parents are darn close too. 

Yet, the youngest remains awake and poised for action.  Nearly two hours later, and many books, the youngest falls asleep too.  "Scratch my back," she says.  "Hold me."  These are her cues.  Then she's out.

Of course, the parent is too.  

Tonight, that parent is dad.  Though it changes every day or so.  And eventually, dad, finds his way back to our bed.  In the middle of the night, we only hope that we find our side of the bed unoccupied - by child or spouse.  And about the time that we settle into our own sleep, there is a tap on the shoulder or, sometimes, the nose.  "Can I sleep in your room?"

One never knows where the morning will find our five bodies.  At least they will be in a bed.  Never the same bed twice.  Or with the same person twice.

Any pediatrician would scoff at our bedtime habits.  They wouldn't even appreciate the dance.  I've stopped telling them the truth!  I've also stopped being worried about how this will or will not hurt my children.  Because when I'm holding this one or that one, when I'm scratching their backs, when I'm laughing at the made up bedtime stories, I know that this moment is one they will never forget.  

Those moments when their warm little bodies melt into the curves of my own.  Those are moments I will never forget.  And I am genuinely thankful for that.  Even if it means that they learn how to be independent when they are a bit older.  Even if it means I lose my place in my bed when the music turns off.

This is OUR bedtime routine.  And I LOVE it!