Pic: If only they were always like this...
I hate bedtime.
Not mine – the kids'.
I especially hate it when their father is away, and the responsibility for getting them to bed on time – and having a crack at a decent day at school/prep the next morning – is all mine.
I am a crap mother when it comes to bedtime.
When Kyle is here, it’s easier to be tough. To ignore them longer, put on a TV show, or tell Kyle: ‘It’s your turn’ to soothe/placate/chastise/discipline or whatever.
But when he’s not … well, I’m afraid I turn into Girly Mumma.
How I let two little kids wind me around their fingers, I don’t know. But often I end up letting them slip into bed with me. Anything for a quiet life!
Part of it is that I’m always so damn tired.
Arthritis, plus the daily routine of a working Mum, really takes it out of me. Half the time, I’m falling asleep on the couch, waiting for THEM to fall asleep.
Sometimes, when hubby is away, it’s just easy to limp upstairs, climb into bed, and invite the rugrats to do the same.
They do tend to sleep well then. And I love that special cuddle time.
But my quality of sleep? That’s another matter.
My little girl Harmonie, loves nothing more than cuddling my feet as she goes to sleep. She slips into the bottom of the bed, grabs a foot, hugs it, and is out for hours. But that’s fine, because once she’s asleep, she barely moves.
Chase, on the other hand, is a real male. That’s because he sighs, farts, snores, burps, talks and wiggles – all night! I’m usually exhausted by morning. That's if I haven't gotten up in the middle of the night, insomnia-induced, and caught up on work!
So here I am, guiltily blogging, while I try to ignore the activity upstairs as I wait for them to finally sleep.
Who will win? Them or me?
Well, that depends.
I’m sure I have a bottle of wine here somewhere…