Tonight I feel too mentally exhausted to write. Honestly, if I could outsource bedtime to India, I would. Every night it’s purely exhausting. And every night it’s for a different reason. Last night it was Alex and Justin coming to blows over who got to flip the little pop-up panels on a book. Tonight it was fighting over a balloon. It’s like walking through a minefield.
That’s after the pleading to get them to go to the bathroom, and before the chasing them back to bed a hundred times. In the middle somewhere is “I forgot to have a snack,” “I’m thirsty,” “Where’s my bear,” “I want covers,” “Justin spilled water on my bed,” “I need to give Penny a kiss,” “I need to go tell Daddy I love him,” “Turn on the bathroom light,” “I wanna sleep in your room,” “I need more stuffed animals,” “I said I don’t want covers,” “I can’t find my string,” “I’m scared,” “Tell Justin to stop singing,” “Alex, come up here,” “This blanket is not soft,” “I have to get my frog,” “Make my pillow into a pet,” “Mommy, I need to go poop,” “My bed is not comfortable,” “I want milk,” “I need new pajamas,” “Mom, Alex is up here.”
Sometimes I hide, but they always find me. Someday I’m going to hide someplace good. Like Mexico.
© Jennifer Alys Windholz, 2011