Bedtime Rituals

A lot of parents say that their child’s bedtime is their favourite part of the day. Usually comments like these are said half in jest, but with the core truth reflecting a feeling of relief about finally having some time to oneself or with a partner, about having a break from the daily chores associated with parenting, about being able to use the bathroom without an audience…

My favourite part of the day is Willow’s bedtime routine, but not for these reasons. Sure, I love having time in the evening to connect with my partner, to write, to read, to play with social media, to practise yoga, to plan, and to reflect.  But I also absolutely cherish the uninterrupted hour that I have the privilege of spending with a delicious little toddler every single night. The hour of slowing down and quieting our bodies and our minds, the hour of distancing ourselves from electronic devices, bright lights, loud sounds, and the rushed activities of the day. The sacred hour of enjoying each other and being entirely present with one another as we naturally lower our cortisol and blood pressure levels, and naturally raise our oxytocin and endorphin levels.

The routine has changed over Willow’s lifetime, from just nursing in a glider at first, to including saying goodnight to daddy and kittens, having a shower or a bath, a coconut oil massage, tooth brushing, potty and hand washing, picking out Jammies, turning on a sound machine to mask the motorcycle-enthusiasts and windstorms, bedtime stories while cuddling two monkey loveys before turning out the lights, singing a goodnight song, and mommy tiptoeing out while Willow sings or whispers herself to sleep. 

While turning down an activity request, it occurred to me this evening that, in the roughly 20 months that I have been Willow’s mommy, I have not missed a single night of her bedtime routine. I’ve gone out after bedtime and left her in the care of others, but I have never actually had anyone else “do bedtime” with her. 

I tell myself that I don’t want to disrupt Willow’s routine. We have a good thing going. Why mess with it?  Ultimately, though, my decision to be here every night has just as much to do with me as it does with Willow. 

Before I became pregnant with Willow, I was very active as a volunteer on a variety of committees, sang in a choir, jammed as many workshops and other professional development activities into my schedule as I could, was active in my church, and was quite engaged in the work of my local federation executive, in addition to fully committing to my full time teaching job and extracurricular activities. Whenever anyone asked me to take on another task or leadership role, I eagerly agreed, relishing the feeling of being needed and appreciated.  For the first five years of our marriage, my husband and I rarely ate dinner together.  I filled the aching hole in my heart with busy-ness. Meetings and workshops filled my waking hours and decreased the time I had to focus on the pain of infertility and pregnancy loss. 

Nowadays, my heart is full. It is so full that sometimes it feels like it is going to burst. I want to relish every second with the family that I have been blessed with. I want to slow down time and soak it all in while I can. I want to bask in this love and in this gratitude for the miracle we have been given.  Life can never go back to “the way it was”. I am not the person I once was. 

Now that Willow is beyond the “infant” stage and I have been back at work for awhile, I’ve been asked by several different colleagues and friends about getting back into volunteer activities, committees, music in the community, and professional leadership projects that would involve late afternoon and early evening meetings or rehearsals. I have made the decision to “turn them down rather than let them down”, and I am surprisingly okay with this.  I am choosing to be involved in a few small projects and an online course with flexible timelines, but the tightly-wound super-woman who worked day and night in order to outrun her feelings is gone. I’m not sure that she will ever return, even when Willow is older.

This is what I know for right now: I will be home for dinner with my family. I will be home for bath and bedtime routine. I will be entirely present with my family for this time, since we are apart all day during the week. There is no meeting or event that is so important that it needs to rob me of this precious and fleeting time with the two most important people (and kittens) in my life.  

  

 

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