Parenting Young Children at Bedtime
I officially retired my mohawk many years ago and it’s hard to remember that person who fit that image when I look into the mirror now. Other people flat out don’t believe tales of my misspent youth. I am so Mervyn’s, so conservative now in comparison to that wild fun loving girl. My emphasis on what you do at night has shifted to one important word: Sleep. Unfortunately this emphasis is incompatible with having 2 young kids.
With two children, night dances have taken on an entirely different meaning. At first I learned the slow rocking dance of trying to get a baby to fall asleep. This was easy with my first son. By rocking back and forth and stroking that soft little space between his eyebrows, he was usually down for the count in a minute or two. That wasn’t such a bad change. After all I was still dancing with a cute guy, no matter how short he was. But something happened after those first few blissful months. Tim started to wake up in the middle of the night. So we popped him in bed with us and he went back to sleep.
Three years down the line we introduced a second child into the mix. That’s when the real dancing began. There seems to be some kind of rule attached to this that you cannot get two children to sleep at the same time. I’m sure there’s a rule hidden deep in the parenting contract they make you sign right after you’ve given birth. Oh, you don’t remember signing that? Just remember birth has an amnesic effect on the mom. You signed it, you just don’t remember.
We’ve come up with several names to describe what happens when you are attempting to keep two children asleep for an entire night. Some of them are unprintable. But we’ve got a dance called the lament of “I need to pee,” the dance of the water sprites, and the scared of the dark tango, not to mention my favorite: the “I need my binkie swing.” In fact we’ve got a whole ballet based entirely in nonfiction. Let me invite you to one night in the Christensen household where you can mentally view the dance in action.
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The scene is a clean living room, lights out with a rerun of Law and Order flickering on our TV set. Just across the hall the children have been put to bed. Two exhausted parents lie on the couch together trying to pretend they have energy left.
Enter 5-year-old child, jumping up and down. “I have to pee.”
The mother leaps up, “You just went.”
The child still jumping, “I have to go again.” Imagine the William Tell Overture here; it’s wildly appropriate. Mother and child spring to the bathroom, the necessary peeing is over with and the child is hustled back to bed.
Scene two and parents are back on the couch. The baby monitor light glows in the dim. At this point a choreographical feat occurs, two dances begin simultaneously in the children’s room. One hears the spring of a crib mattress as the 2-year-old launches into the “I need my binkie.” He is swinging and swaying, leaping on his mattress, “screaming nana, nana” (his name for pacifier). He jumps just in rhythm to any number of swing tunes. Pick your favorite and imagine. Yet in another part of the stage, the dance of the water sprite has begun, the overture to the Nutcracker fits here. Meanwhile both parents get up to the tune of “MarchÃ?© Slav” or “Nobody Knows The Trouble I’ve Seen.” The cacauphony of sounds is incredible. Lights flash off and on and binkies are located, water is obtained and once again the children are settled into bed.
The parents give up on the TV and the lights are darkened signifying the end of Act one. There is a two-hour intermission.
Act Two, Scene One – parents are snoring in bed, and a five-year-old appears at the foot of the bed. “There are spiders in my bed.”
“Snort Wha” say the parents in unison.”
“Spiders in my bed” repeats the child. Now begins the scared of the dark tango – a parent arises as again we hear the music of “Nobody Knows The Trouble I’ve Seen,” and escorts the child back to bed. Suddenly music from “Carmen” is heard as the parent throws back the sheets like an expert bullfighter, pats it all down and says “See no spider.”
But the beauty of the tango is that it is a dance of retreat and return. Together and apart the dancers whirl and this 5-year-old is not finished yet. He is back again in 2 minutes “Are you sure you got all the spiders?”
“Snort Yes I’m sure”
“Check again Daddy”
Off the father goes to again repeat the flinging of blankets, patting of bed and replacing of child which of course wakes up the 2 year old who realizes he no longer has his nana. Back into the binkie swing full force and now everyone is awake. But the 5-year-old exhausted by his dance slips back into blissful sleep. The two-year-old is escorted to the parents’ bed in hopes he will calm down and go back to sleep.
Scene Two – the morning light is just barely glimmering as the 2 year old finds his mother’s hair. Getting two strands of it, he launches into a chorus of the alphabet, pulling on one strand at a time to accentuate each letter. The mother rolls over and the 2-year-old repeats the process with the back of her head. Enter the 5-year-old who demands cartoons.
The ballet is over and of course all participants but the children are exhausted. They even look at mother and father and ask in their happy peppy morning tones “Why are you guys so tired?” There is no appropriate response to that.
Tricia Christensen
