Heeyyy, Macarena! Now Go To Sleep

Of all the things I under-appreciated in my youth, SLEEP trumps them all.

If you’re a parent, you read the first line of this blog and nodded your head so violently in agreement, you may have given yourself whiplash.

When Jamie and I decided to start a family, we knew, of course, that meant diapers, Cheerios, and sleepless nights. But (and here’s what no parenting book ever tells you), what we didn’t know is that the sleepless nights thing? The thing everyone told us only lasts the first few months of a baby’s life? Yeah, that doesn’t really ever go away.

Because once they stop waking up to eat every 2 hours during the night, they start coming up with an endless portfolio of other reasons to get up, or, as they get older, not to go to bed in the first !#@$#%$^ place.

We’ve all read the blogs, the stories, the books detailing the nightmare that is bed time. I wanted to share my inner dialogue, and often times my out-loud dialogue, around my least favorite part of the day.

To set the stage: Mason is 3 years old. Lia is 8 years old. Andrew is 10 years old. You ready? Here we go.

7:32 p.m.

“Mason, it’s time to get ready for bed. Let’s go brush your teeth and read books.”
(runs away while screaming): “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I no want go bed! I play monsta with An-rew! RAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH”

“Mason, I’m going to count to 5 and if you don’t come here by the time I’m finished, Daddy’s going to put you to bed.”

[Worthless threat #1. I can’t believe I have to threaten this kid every single night to get him to go to bed. Worse, I can’t believe that stay-at-home-Daddy IS the threat… oh how the mighty have fallen] “1… 2…. 3….”

8:03 p.m.

[I can’t believe we are still brushing his teeth.]

“Momma, you sing the meatball song? You lay with me?”

“Of course, Mason. Don’t we sing the meatball song every night?”

[Seriously, every.single.night. But hey, if doing the Macarena every night would make him go to sleep, I’d do it happily.]

“On top of spaaahghettttiiiii…”

8:17 p.m.

“Alright Daddy, your turn to sing.”

[Oh, you thought he only needed 1 song to go to sleep? Ha! Amateur. He needs the meatball song – sung by Mommy and only Mommy – AND Sweet Baby James sung by Daddy and only Daddy. Why do we give in to this every night? See previous comment about the Macarena]

8:18 p.m.

“Andrew, Lia, time to go upstairs and brush your teeth, put on jammies and read.”

“READ! I don’t want to read! Reading is boring!”

“I have nothing to read!”

“Do I HAVE to read? My teacher said I don’t have to read every single night.”

“Can I have a drink?”

“Can we play a board game?”

“Want to watch me sing one more song?”

“Can I have a snack?”

“Can we have a sleepover?”

[Same questions, every night. One night, maybe I’ll just say Yes to everything, just to throw them off]

“Yes, you have to read. We have tons of books in the house, pick one. I don’t care if your teacher said you don’t have to read every night. No you can’t have a drink, or a snack, no we cannot play a board game, no you cannot sleep in the same room, and no I definitely do not want to hear you sing one more song. Please can we just go to bed, without yelling, without threatening, just… go to bed? Nicely? Please?”

8:36 p.m.

“Will you lay with me?”

“Hey, not fair! If you lay with her, who’s going to lay with me?”

“I asked first!”

“NOBODY IS LAYING WITH ANYBODY. JUST GO TO SLEEP. For the love of all things holy, if I hear one more complaint out of either of you, you will both go to bed at 6:00 tomorrow night.”

[Worthless threat #2. But they hate going to bed early, so sometimes this works. Sometimes.]

[Ahh, blissful. It’s only 8:43 and I’m already headed back downstairs! Awesome.]

8:47 p.m.

“Mommy……”

[WHY? Why? What in the world could they possibly need? It’s been 4 minutes since I left them!!!]

8:48 p.m.

“Why are you both back downstairs?”

“I can’t sleep” [Don’t care. Fake it.]

“I’m not tired” [Oh no? Well, guess who IS tired? ME! Go to bed]

“My finger hurts when I do this” (bends finger backwards) [Then stop !@@$#%#%* doing that]

“I’m scared” [What can you possibly be afraid of?]

“Remember that 15 1/2 second commercial I saw back in 2007 where the guy jumped out and made a loud noise? Well, I was thinking about THAT, and now I’m scared.” [Really?]

“GUYS, guys… listen, it’s late, we’ve all had a full day. Please just go to bed. Just, go up there, close your eyes, and just… be quiet. Okay? Can you do that? If you go back upstairs right now, you can have gum for breakfast.” [The later it gets, the worse my parenting gets]

Children stomp back upstairs.

9:02 p.m.

“Moooooom?”

“Okay, that’s it! Listen to me. I don’t want to hear either of your voices again unless someone is bleeding or puking – got it? Hello? The correct answer is ‘yes Mom, we got it’”

[Silence. Maybe they figured it out!]

9:27 p.m.

“Andrew, WHAT are you doing back downstairs?”

“I’m not tired. I’m almost 11. I don’t get tired anymore.”

“Andrew, go to bed.”

“But can’t I watch the Bruins game with you?”

“Please, please go to bed? Please?”

“Bruins.”

[Whatever. Stay up all night. I’m going to start ignoring you now.]

10:33 p.m.

Kim is passed out on the couch. Her loving husband wakes her gently and suggests she go to bed. She happily agrees and walks sleepily to the room they share, and climbs into bed.

11:30 p.m.

BUH BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! [What was that? Oh, thunder.]

Running can be heard coming from upstairs.

“Lia, what’s up honey?”

“I’m scared. The thunder woke me up.”

“Okay, I know, it was loud. Crawl back into bed. I’ll lie with you.” [Twin bed. Dog stuffed animal bigger than my 3 year old.]

2 hours later…

Wake up. “Uh! What time is it?” [Crap, I fell asleep up here. Plastic dog eye is digging into my neck. I’m going back to my own bed.]

1:30 a.m.

Walk into dark room. Pull back comforter. Mason. Sigh.

Whispers: “Move over buddy, Mommy needs room.” [Grumble. I love having to lift 35 pounds while I’m sleep walking]

5:30 a.m.

[Why won’t he stop moving? Just, STOP.MOVING. Maybe if I just keep my eyes closed I can ignore- OUCH. He kicked me in the stomach. That’s okay, I’m pretty sure I can stay asleep while he kicks me in the stomach. As long as he doesn’t start talking..]

6:03 a.m.

“Moooooommmmmmyyyyy! Mama! Mama! Want to watch TV with me? Mama! Mama! Look outside, it’s not raining! Mama Mama Maaamaaa! Mommy! Mama!”

The End

Epilogue

Jamie: “How’d you sleep last night, babe?”
Me: “Ya know, it wasn’t too bad, I feel pretty good….”

[Wasn’t too bad? Oh, right. Because it WASN’T too bad. Nobody puked. Or got a bloody nose. Or peed the bed. Or had a night terror. Or or or….]

If you need me, I’ll be over here, sleeping on my keyboard.