Growing up my bedtime routine consisted of nothing more than Mom saying, “Time for bed, good night”. We knew if we hesitated to get to bed, even for a second, our lives would be in grave danger. Now this never stopped us from making faces behind her back as she walked out the door. And many nights we innocently wished for some act of nature requiring a brief late night evacuation. Yes, we kids were big dreamers.
Regardless of how tough staying put in bed was, we always kept our butts in bed. So how did I get it so wrong once I became a parent?
Fast forward several decades to bedtime with our firstborn. Night after night we lost battles to exhaustion and our bundle of joy often wound up in our bed. Of course his preferred “H” sleep position perfectly lined up his foot with my left nostril so I only was able to “half-breathe” but at least I also “half-slept”. Something was better than nothing.
As he got older and asked for water after the perfect “tuck in”, we got it for him. We chased away monsters and read way too many books over the “3 book a night maximum”. But ultimately we toughened up, grew some mangoes, and after a few sleepless nights during the early toddler years, he learned to settle himself down and actually stay in bed. I felt like a champion. The mother of all mothers. I’d battled the bedtime beast head on and won! Who was better than us, right??
Seven years later, we welcomed our second baby to the world. As parents, we were seven years older and seven years wiser. Apparently we were also seven years more tired. Let’s just say the regression I made with managing bedtime with our second born, is akin to reverting to cross country travel via horse and carriage.
I broke rules I never knew existed. Now don’t think I didn’t put up a good fight. I tried the Ferber method but as a baby wearing, organic eating, respect my baby as an individual kind of mom- I couldn’t bear hearing him cry. Not to mention this baby’s “cry” was closer to a loud shrill, piercing eardrums and driving neighbors to call Child Protective Services. It was the mother of “F-U” rants in baby language.
So how did we survive it? Well, let me walk you through our screwy sleep success system for survival.
Our baby’s bedtime routine started off normally enough. Bath time was around 7:30p, followed by a lotion rub down and singing (lots of singing). Then came cuddles while reading 16 books. Then we’d settle down in my bed and…I’d put on “Dora the Explorer”.
Yup, you read that correctly. Dora, Boots and her whole gang of friends entertained my love bug all hours of the night. On the bright side, by 9 months he counted to 20 and knew his colors in both English and Spanish.
He was also witness to my tremendous work ethic and I counted that as baby character building. Once it became clear I’d be sitting in bed potentially for hours on end until this little engine’s steam ran out, I decided to make the most of my time.
I hate to admit it folks, but I would bring my laptop and phone to bed to try to catch up on work. I’d also go grocery shopping via PeaPod and planned birthday parties, holiday dinners and googled “how to keep my identity” and “maintaining intimacy in marriage”, too many times to count.
After all of that fun and once I became too tired to ignore Dora’s demands to stand up, jump high, or stop Swiper from swiping, I would abruptly announce that she needed to go to sleep. That was usually followed by 5 minutes of goodbyes to Dora and friends, then 15 minutes of hysterics. Thrashing and spinning would then ensue. As a way to accept this, I convinced myself the writhing must be some innate ancient baby ritual to help them find the perfect position on the bed. Twelve threats of time out later, and all would finally be quiet. Though I’d never admit to it at the time, not even to the pediatrician, bedtime ranged from 9pm to 11pm depending on the night. No joke.
How did I stray so far off track with the second? Put simply, I was exhausted- physically, mentally, and spiritually. In the name of survival, I had to learn to ration my energy supply and more carefully choose which battles I’d fight. This new perspective eventually moved beyond the bedtime routine and I think I became a better human because of it.
Second time parenting taught me kids will eat when they’re hungry, talk when they’re ready and sleep when they’re tired. I had to learn to let go of some control for the sake of my sanity.
It certainly takes a village to raise children and my tribe is as diverse as they come. I’m grateful for each and every one of them. But to my forever night crew- Dora, Boots, Tico, Swiper, Benny, Abuelita and the Troll- you’ve all earned my respect and hold a special place in my sleepy heart.
