mommy tips

Or “The Post Where You Learn How Bad a Mother I Really Am” by Emily Hill

Note: I started writing this post about 9:00 p.m. last night…

Until about a half hour ago I had absolutely no idea what I’d write for today’s post. Then we started the nightly bedtime ritual and within five minutes I knew exactly what my post would say. And I also knew my post would be far from nifty and far from inspiring (sorry, Allison); rather it would be a therapeutic release for the frustration, resentment and ensuing guilt I feel for being the one mom in the whole world who wishes her kids would put themselves to bed.

Okay, I wish at least three out of the four would put themselves to bed. The fourth requires only a binky, favorite stuffed animal and kiss on the cheek before laying her down in her crib; it’s a two-minute process start to finish. If only the other three were that easy! I think the only time I ever truly enjoy bedtime is when my kids are in the stage my youngest is in right now, the binky-blanket-book-bed stage. Just now I had to haul my three-year-old back to bed for the fourth time tonight. Oh, and here I am one sentence later and he’s back again…can you see my jaw tensing as I get up yet one more time to lead him back to bed in silence? And yes, I learned that trick from Super Nanny.

Honestly it’s not this getting-out-of-bed thing that bothers me because that seems to occur only in phases. (We’re serious sleep trainers in this family and have been since our firstborn was four months old.) It’s just the long process it takes to get multiple kids in bed before the stroke of 8:30 p.m. I know I should cherish this time as “they’ll grow up before I know it” and I’ll soon miss things like dried-on toothpaste in the sink and multiple trips to the bathroom. But will I really miss asking them for the hundredth time if they’ve showered yet or reminding them yet again to pick up their clothes off the bathroom floor or telling them for the third night in a row they wouldn’t be hungry at bedtime if they’d eaten their dinner? I beg to differ.

I should love everything about bedtime…hence the guilt. Instead I’m plain exhausted once they’re all tucked in for the night and find myself breathing deep sighs of relief I haven’t heard the pitter patter of little feet for at least 15 minutes (and still counting). But before you think I’m the worst mother in the world—and lamest petit elefant guest blogger ever—I do have one redeeming quality: I absolutely adore my kids…especially when they’re sleeping.

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