Bedtime routines

Bedtime at our house has always been about routine. I’ve found if we try to keep things consistent, everyone gets to bed easier and, most importantly, earlier.

Of course I discovered that it’s not so simple to keep that routine during the summertime. No one is ready to come in the house or even think about getting our routine going. And forget about going to bed at a time that is decent for a couple of little kids. I know several experienced mothers who say it’s completely normal and that I shouldn’t fret about summer hours, so I tried to relax. And they were right. The summer came and went and we all lived through it without any gruesome scars to show.

Now we’re on to bigger and better battles. The most recent struggle has been about how to get the oldest to go to bed by himself. We made the transition from sleeping with mom and dad to sleeping in his own room, and in his own bed. But how do we get out of the sometimes 60-minute test of patience that comes from getting that boy to sleep?

Like most things parents are charged with doing, we had no ideas on how to get it done, and no options other than the standard, “This is what we’re doing and it’s because I said so,” method, which has been so ineffectively thrown at generations of children gone by. But with a few nights of Dad’s tough love at the bedroom door, and the aid of a Lightning McQueen night light, we were off to a roaring start.

The first couple of weeks, he had the arrangement down pat. It was like he had been coached by some ornery Eddie Haskell on how to worm your way out of staying in bed. He’d need a drink. Then he’d need to go to the bathroom. Then he was hot. After a while, I just wanted to cave, and let the little beggar sleep with us so I could finally go off to bed myself. Our average TTS (time to sleep) each night was pushing two hours. It was exhausting.

From the standard, “I’m just not big enough yet.” theory to waking at 2 a.m. to find a three and a half foot zombie hovering over me whispering, “You’re just not supposed to close my door,” it’s all I could do to maintain sanity. Whatever comfort he was able to muster for himself seemed to be found in the fact that I might be sitting in the living room until dawn. He would plead with his big, brown eyes, “Will you just stay in the living room and work at the computer all night?”

As luck would have it though, a few weeks into the new bedtime routine, we happened to catch an episode of Little Bear. I forget the story line, but what caught Cooper’s eye was the fact that Little Bear went to bed at night alone and in his own bed. That was just the role model he needed for the extra push into big-boy, bedtime behavior.

Since then, when it is time for bed, we call out for “Little Bear” to make a run to the bathroom, put on his pull up, and snuggle in for the night. We get him all tucked in, say our prayers, and go through the same tenet each time: “Good night. I love you. See you in the morning.” And we are always met in response by the same: “Good night. I love you, too. See you in the morning.” Then, in a weak and quivering voice, “Mom, will you keep checking on me?”

I don’t know where he got the phrase, but he nailed it right on the head. And you can bet if we don’t check on him often enough, he’ll pop right out of that bed and come weepy-eyed into the living room, wringing his hands, saying, “I thought you were going to keep checking on me?”

At 6 a.m. on a Sunday morning after Cooper’s second full night of staying in his own bed until morning, I awoke to a sleepy-eyed hug and this: “Mommy, sometimes when I’m away from you at night, I always miss you.” No matter how proud we are when our kids conquer their fears, it’s certainly nice to know they still need their mom and dad.

I guess developing routines and sticking with them is a lot of what parenting is all about. And when it comes to discipline, there is no better friend to a parent than consistency.

I remember having a similar bedtime routine growing up at our house and the comfort that it brought to me. No matter how old I got, I could always count on my mother coming to my room to tell me, “Good night. I love you. See you in the morning.” And my response was the same as my son’s. I guess we all get a feeling of security knowing where we are, that we are not alone, and that we are loved. It seemed to work for me.

And that’s All in a day’s work!