Category Archives: bedtime

February 25, 2011 · 4:54 pm

Moon Moon Moon

For all the unpredictability in our house, we have a very predictable bedtime routine.  The boys get a fresh diaper or pull-up, they brush their teeth, we read a story, we sing a song, I say “Happy, happy sleep and sweet, sweet dreams” and then it’s over.  G’nite.

When Mike sings, he usually does old rock songs, and the boys love it.  When I sing, I sing one song over and over – “Moon Moon Moon” by Lorrie Berkner.  After all the Mommy & Me and Music Together classes I’ve endured, this is the only song I have in my repertoire for bed.  Thankfully, the boys love it, too.

A few weeks ago, Mike was on bedtime duty because I was cooking dinner and had lost my patience with the kids big time.  I don’t even remember what sent me over the edge.  It was just one of those days.  Anyway, Mike came in the kitchen and said the boys wanted to hear the moon song, so I sang while cooking and Mike recorded it on his iPhone.  We thought it would be fun for them, and it was.  According to Mike, it put them in some kind of trance.  They were in awe that my voice was coming from the phone, and Riley kept pointing at it and saying, “Mommy? Mommy?” 

We played the recording the next night while I was in the room, and it was amazing to see them respond so genuinely to my voice.  It was also unbearable.  It made me think that if something ever happened to me, they would have this one short recording of me singing “Moon Moon Moon” and it made me want to cry.  But I digress.

My bedtime routine is as follows: brush teeth, floss (if I remember), watch “Anderson Cooper 360” until I start dozing and tell Mike to roll over when he snores.   The tell Mike to roll over part pretty much continues on and off all night.  So do tossing and turning because my bed is so old and uncomfortable that my neck, hips and back hurt the minute I get in the bed.  Somewhere around 4am, Harry, who at nearly six years old still needs to pee in the middle of the night, will wake one of us to let him out.  By the time I fall back asleep from that interruption, it’s usually time for Riley to wake up screaming around 5am.

But all of this – the good and bad – is going to change tonight.  We finally bought a new bed for our room (a King!) and it’s being delivered this afternoon.  Our old bed is going into Riley’s old room, which we’re using as a guest room/office/junk yard.  And the twin bed that has been collecting dust in Riley’s old room is going into Riley and Dylan’s room to…drum roll…replace Riley’s crib.  Yes, Riley will sleep in a big boy bed for the first time tonight.  It’s either the best or worst idea we’ve ever had, but I’m so ready to be done with the crib (and we have too many beds and too little space to store them!).  

Bedtime will be nuts tonight, I’m sure.  If we can get Riley to stay in his new bed, I know I’ll sleep like a baby in mine…until Harry wakes me up to pee, Mike wakes me up with his snoring and Riley inevitably wanders into our room in the middle of the night to say hello because he can.  At least we’ll still have “Moon Moon Moon.”

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December 17, 2010 · 8:07 pm

Dear Santa

I did something last night that I promised myself, as a parent, I would never do. I let my child sleep in bed with me. I’m not judging parents who share their bed with their kids, but for me, it’s off limits. It’s the only personal space I have – I don’t even get to go to the bathroom with the door closed – and I vowed never to give it up to the kids.

Until last night. When I put the boys to bed, Dylan sobbed and told me he was afraid to go to sleep because of Riley’s crying.

Let me tell you a little bit about Riley’s crying. He’s not the kind of kid who wakes up and coos or babbles in his crib until someone comes to get him. In fact, he wakes up every morning – sometimes as early as 4:30 – with a scream. And it’s not just reserved for the morning. A few nights ago, he had a screaming spell at about 11pm. If he could talk, he would say, “Get me the BLEEP out of this BLEEPING crib!” It’s as if he’s being stabbed repeatedly with a dull knife. It’s fascinating, actually, because he’s such as sweet, quiet boy. But man, he can scream.

Mike and I have an agreed upon parenting strategy for the middle-of-the-night or too-early-in-the-morning screaming – we ignore it. He usually falls back to sleep but only after 10 to 20 minutes of hellish crying. However, now that Dylan and Riley are roommates, our strategy is flawed. Dylan’s bed is a mere ten feet away from Riley’s crib. Even with his bed tent, he has no protection from the monster. Mike and I are in the next room, with a wall between us, and we’re tortured by the noise, so I can only imagine how scary it is for Dylan.

I understand his fear and frustration. Riley’s screaming has turned me into a jaw-clenching, wine-gulping insomniac. I wake up every morning around 4:15 in anticipation of his agonizing wake-up call. Even if he doesn’t cry (which happens very occasionally), my body goes stiff with anxiety and sleep is impossible.

Back to last night. I asked Dylan if he wanted have a separate bedroom from Riley and he said, “No, because I’ll still hear him crying.” Smart boy. It’s true. I think the neighbors hear him, too, and as I write this I wonder why no one has called the police suspecting some kind of foul play in our house.

Guilt is a powerful emotion. Dylan was really upset and I was exhausted, so I asked him if he wanted to sleep with me (Mike was out of town on business). As soon as the words spilled out of my mouth, I knew I had done something that I couldn’t undo. Ask any parent and they’ll tell you, if you let them sleep there once, they’ll want to sleep there all the time.

The night went okay. Dylan wanted to sleep with the lights on, so we compromised with a flashlight. I woke up a few times with a bright light shining in my eyes or Lightning McQueen poking me in the back, but overall it wasn’t a bad night of sleep. I don’t know what’s going to happen tonight, but Mike will be home and our queen size bed will start to get pretty crowded, especially if Harry joins us, which he often does. If I’ve lost my bed – my one sacred space – to my kids then it’s my own damn fault, but I’m hoping for a miracle. I’m also hoping Santa Claus will bring me a king size bed (and some sleeping pills) for Christmas…just in case.

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