It’s 8:00 on a Monday,
bedtime routine has begun.
What’s supposed to be calming wind down,
is quickly unraveled and undone.
Everyone is suddenly famished,
and “needs” a snack right now.
Casually filling up their water,
all I can think in my head is, “wow.”
It’s time for 20 questions,
handstands, wrestling, running.
Apparently, “Get ready for bed,”
is a command for adrenaline pumping.
The energy that has lain dormant,
when it was time to clean their room.
At bedtime decides the heck with it,
it’s time to make my debut.
Did you brush your teeth?
Yes. Hmm your brush feels dry.
You cannot wear that to bed,
you know what, just wear it, it’s fine.
Slamming of doors, fighting,
If we have to come in there!
What are you guys doing?
Wait, is that a chunk of your sister’s hair?
Why is there so much conflict,
from the bathroom to their bed?
It’s like we asked them to cross the Nile,
or carry 80 pound buckets on their head.
Then as they finally settle in,
and you tiptoe from the door.
Time to relax? Nope.
Dishes, laundry, projects, floors.
In full concentration mode,
deep and lost and spacing out.
A child looms in the corner,
staring, slithering, and creeps you out.
Ahhhh! What are you doing?!
you scared the daylights out of me!
Mommy, I have a question,
Mommy, I have to go potty.
Loud when you need them to settle,
slinking in silence when warning would be nice.
The irony of bedtime parenting,
keeps us both humble and in fright.
The same process every night,
you’d think the routine would’ve formed grooves.
But nah, bedtime amnesia is real,
it’s the time for the kids to rule.
Dominate by deflection,
take advantage when we’re tired.
So much patience I have after 8 pm,
I wish I could be so wired.
But alas it’s all part of the calling,
the privilege of calling them mine.
For no where else can such joy,
and frustration intertwine.
However frustrating bedtime may be,
they are mine to tuck in and kiss.
And one day when bedtime is quiet,
oh how all their naughtiness I’ll miss.
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