I would like to think I have some semblance of control and order when it comes to this bedtime routine thing. Sure, there was a time when I was losing my mind every time the words bedtime popped up in our house. But that was a long time ago, and since then I’ve learned a thing or two, and have even developed what I am proud to say are a few pretty cool products to help kids sleep. I understand the way the brain works, and the triggers that excite it. So here I am, patting myself on the back, when I decide to take the kids to my parents’ house for a few nights. Can you say “CHAOS?”
If you can’t, my daughter can. I wish I could refer to her at this point as my “darling” daughter, but she’s far from it. In fact, when she was somewhere between a temper tantrum, an emotional breakdown and seemingly wired on whatever the 6 year old’s equivalent of crack is (gummy bears?), my dad happened to walk into the bedroom where I was ineffectively trying to get her to go to sleep. I should back track at this point and say that while I was growing up I am pretty certain that my dad never, I repeat never, came into my room during the bedtime hour. But alas, here he was at the height of the witching hour, walking in on me and my not-so-cute little one , the two of us actively engaged in a no-holds-barred match of stubbornness. “Umm, Kristen, can I help you with anything?” he kindly, and timidly asks. To which I choose from one of the following three responses:
a) Yes, find two live chickens and sacrifice them so this demonic creature calms her ass down
b) Just make sure that grandma did not drink all the wine ‘cause I’m gonna need some
c) Grandpa, meet your granddaughter, Satan!
Somehow, I managed to go with the third choice, and with that, a big burst of laughter erupted from the two of us, leaving my daughter utterly confused. “Did you just call me Susan?”
So here’s my lesson for the day: I threw my daughter’s bedtime routine in the washing machine: our day was hectic from the get-go, we ate dinner very late, and I didn’t have any of her favorite books. Yet I assumed that when I said “bedtime” she’d say “you betcha.” Huge mistake. The reality is that as parents, when we throw a wrench into our kids’ lives, there are going to be some repercussions. We’re not always certain how these repercussions are going to play out—they might be a tantrum at the dinner table or a rude comment to a younger sibling, but something very well might come that will prove to be wholly out of character. While it is easy in these situations to get frustrated and even embarrassed if they are occurring in front of others remember that the more stressed and wound up we get as parents, the more stressed our kids get as well. My advice, above all else, is to make certain you are well stocked with a decent sense of humor, because there’s a good chance Grandma drank the last of the wine.
