Hardest job in the world

I think that to most parents, bedtime is a very significant concept. No matter what kind of power struggles arise, it represents the first time in a parents’ day they may be able to focus on anything other than their children. Some days I find myself watching the clock counting down the hours and other days seem to breeze by so easily that I don’t feel so desperate for that break. Lately, however, bedtime has come to represent the singular goal for the day and tucking my kids into bed has become akin to punching out at the end of a long shift. So when my four-year-old showed up at our bedroom door last night over two hours after bedtime and numerous attempts on both of our parts to get him to stay in his bed, the first thought I had was that I was off clock. For that instant, he wasn’t my baby who was obviously struggling in his own way with all the uncertainty in the world, he was a job that I was finished with for the day. I spend so much time planning what I can do to make my children’s lives interesting and exciting and worry so much about the impact this will all have on them and when the best opportunity to provide real, meaningful comfort presents itself, I can’t muster the strength or desire. Thankfully I tapped into some extras drops of ‘mom-fuel’ and trotted him back to his bed only to confront the very real possibility that I would end up sleeping in his small bed overcrowded with stuffies. I made a quick judgment call and weighed the pros and cons of sleeping with him in his bed or bringing him into mine where I might at least have a chance at some decent sleep. I scooped him up and to his extreme delight, snuggled him into my bed. I don’t know what the right thing to do would have been but being able to provide him that comfort felt really good 💕