at bedtime

I read a blog post last night and I can't stop thinking about it. In fact, I wish I would've saved it so I could go back to it. It talked about bedtime rituals, the good and the bad. It talked about how important it is to take the time to talk, listen and and answer questions. It's about how we are building the foundation for how "askable" we are as parents when are children are older. It's about how we want our children to always feel like they can come to us to talk.

I'm guilty of rushing through bedtime routines lately. I let out a frustrated breath when brushing teeth becomes a water mess. I snap when they have to go pee yet again. I hurry through our thankful list. I answer questions in a snappy tone. I too quickly say "enough talking, it's time for bed". Needless to say the blog I read was kind of a punch to my momma heart. My behavior at bedtime lately hasn't been building a very strong foundation for being askable. Why am I rushing it? Do I honestly think "me" time in front of the TV, or reading a book is more important then my babes wanting to talk, tell stories and ask questions? When it's put that way, it makes me feel awfully selfish.

We want them to always feel able to come to us to talk about anything. Building that foundation starts now! So last night, I had to remind myself to s-l-o-w down. I answered questions with a patient tone. I listened to stories and asked my own questions. I sang twinkle, twinkle little star "just one more time".

Growing up, I honestly did feel like I could talk to my parents about anything. Even in high school, I would crawl into my parents bed next to my mom and pour out anything I had on my mind. It didn't always come out easily, or freely. Sometimes it took some prompting on their part, but one thing I always knew, without a doubt, was that no matter what I had to say, they would listen to me and they would love me. They were sometimes disappointed or upset by what I had to tell them, but when all was said and done, and emotions settled, love was still the strongest thing I felt. As an adult, nothing has changed. I still talk to my parents. I open up to them when I'm scared or frustrated. I share my happiness with them, my sadness and struggles. It doesn't really matter how old I am, I will always need my parents and that comfort of being able to talk to them.

That is what I want for my kids. When Brody is 17 I want him to crawl on my bed and feel like he can talk to me. If he's hurting from a broken heart, upset by a friend or a choice he had to make, I want him to want to come to me because he knows at the end of it all, I love him, and will be there for him. When Lola is trying to navigate through her teen years, I want her to come to me. I want her to vent if that's what she needs, or to cry, or if she just needs someone to yell at. When baby #3 is feeling left out and just wants someone to listen, I'm here. I know it won't all be roses. I know that there will be hard conversations, hurt feelings. What I do know, is I want to do my best to make my kids feel like they can come to me with anything.

I'm not always going to get it right. There will still be nights when my patience is running thin. With a newborn soon to be here, I know things will shift when it comes to bedtimes. I also have a strong feeling the strides we have made with Lola sleeping in her own bed may come to an end. At this phase in our child rearing lives, our kids just want to feel loved, safe, and secure. So if that means we squeeze all 5 of us into our queen size bed, or I have to stay upstairs with the older two just a little longer than normal, I want to do it with grace.