{Un}Sweet{ened} Dreams

I have been putting kids to bed for nearly the last decade. I have developed a pretty efficient night time routine {in theory}.  There’s the mandated quiet time that prefaces bedtime {because if you can just get them to sit still, they will fall asleep.  Foreshadowing: they know that}. Then, the usual: teeth brushing, {bath if they are a sticky, slobbery mess}, jammies, tuck in, lights out, lids shut.  Easy enough.  They know the drill.  What’s the problem you ask?

Well, at the designated quiet hour of 7 pm, a phenomenon hits.  I call it “the Drew Barrymore from 50 First Dates effect.”  {Remember that movie?  Drew Barrymore’s character is in an accident and her memory is reset every night with no memory of the previous day.  Yea, that pretty much sums up night-night time ’round here}.

It is suddenly an hour they are unfamiliar with.  Never even heard of.  Let me sum it up for you:

kids: {screaming and fighting about whatever strikes their fancy on any particular day and basically not participating in quiet time}

me: {gentle reminder} It is quiet time.

kids: {unfazed, undeterred}

me: Be QUIET {not so gentle reminder}.

This cycle ensues for 43 minutes {not that I am counting}.

me: {Ok, I’m done, bedtime}.

The second wave of said phenomenon hits.  Bedtime is a foreign concept.

We then spend the next, what seems like 3429357235 minutes, playing several rounds of whack-a-mole. Get all kids in bed, the next one {or three} gets up.  Except it is not fun and no one is winning any tickets {a little Chuck E. Cheese reference}.

Three hours after we start, kids are finally asleep. Every.single.night.

I look forward to the day when bedtime is no longer a source of shock and horror.  I am guessing that will prevail in the teen years. And then they better watch out.  Because momma will be waking them up at 5:30 A.M. every.single.morning {insert evil laugh here}.

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