Bedtime with Alpha Mummy & Beta M-zzzzzzz

Bedtime.  Most days I look forward to the sweet release of death bedtime by about 9:30am.  I love the very bones of my children, but my god, by the time about 5pm comes around I am ready to commit some sort of crime.doodle showing bedtime in the Alpha house and the Beta house. You can guess which one is a more relaxing affair...

The “witching hours” of 5pm til 7pm are a daily endurance feat, a slog towards the promise of a comfy sofa and a glass of wine (putting aside the clearing away, loading the dishwasher, making packed lunches, packing school bags, getting uniforms out, etc etc that needs to be done before that.  Sigh.)

 

Bedtime is like the death throes of the day.  The kids are tired, I’m tired.  They don’t know what they want, I know EXACTLY what I want.  They’re like that game where little heads pop up and you have to bash them on the head with a hammer before the next little head pops up.  I should probably point out at this juncture that I not actually bash my children on the head to get them to go to bed…not that I haven’t been tempted once or twice.

 

The one thing we always do in my house, without fail, however awful the day has been, or however late it is – is read a bedtime story.  I try to avoid one of the many books we seem to have about poo, as these result in hysterical children and lots of bums in the air (NOT MINE).  We’re terribly highbrow in my house.  But if I can manoeuvre them through the pyjamas-toilet-teeth-milk-teeth-toilet-pyjamas-teddy-socks-water-toilet rigmarole, and persuade them to lie down and listen to a story, I usually know that I’m on the home straight.

 

And then.  Finally, after many false starts and last-minute kisses and cuddles and desperate gasps for hydration, they fall asleep.  Usually in one of many bizarre contortions that they manage to pull.

Silence.

Blissful silence.

And I look at them, and my heart melts at the sight of those smooshy lips and those little curled fingers and those crease-free brows.  And I remember why I’ll happily do it all again tomorrow, and the next day, and for as long as these feral little creatures want me to.

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