None of these things are me by the end of the day anymore. I swear, in my head things go so differently. By the time the thought goes from my brain, across the kids’ laundry and toys, over their sassy heads and through their drama, my mouth and body can no longer perform the mommy kindness rituals that play out in my head.
Every day I tell myself bedtime that night will be what I envision: Tucking my kids into bed lovingly with patience, listening to them regale me with silly stories of recess that day with friends, or lunchtime shenanigans with their friends. We will chuckle and cuddle a bit and reinforce that wonderful bond that is the foundation of trust and love between a mother and her children.
What actually happens: I am so annoyed by all the nagging and debating and loophole jumping regarding the bedtime expectations that when they finally get their keisters in the sack, I plant a peck on their heads, fluff the blankets, and say goodnight all while sprinting to the bedroom door. Halfway through the doorway, I cringe as my kid calls out every.single.night, “WAIT, Mom! [insert demand for drink/blanket/stuffie/book that was not grabbed during the three trips in and out of bed]”
I swear I don’t even breathe normally anymore. I just get my oxygen in huffs and sighs.
It’s not because I want it to be this way, but it is mostly because of all the attributes lost listed above and 9 times out of 10 my husband is working and not around for any of it for one reason or another.
This is my reality of bedtime. I feel guilty about the mini failure as I walk down the stairs. By the time I put my feet up and get comfy with the DVR all to myself, though, I find a way to feel better. I’d like to think i’m not the only mom who goes through this. Surely you are out there huffing and sighing with me.