Once upon my misspent youth, nights were young at 9:00 pm.
Anything earlier was blue-plate territory, better left for senior citizens and defeated people with small children.
At this point in my life, I’d happily go to bed at 8:15pm if I could. Sometimes, I covet my little ones’ footie pajamas, too. And? I wish I could hear a story and fall to sleep as someone who loves me sings sweet songs.
Instead, I go to bed with bags under my eyes with ratty t-shirts and sweats for pajamas. My bedtime stories have titles like, “The Big Bad List of Things to Do Tomorrow!” and “Let’s Worry About Christmas.” I tell them to myself. Nobody sings.
Years of being a mom to many, many children have trained me to be a morning person. I have no choice. They have school and needs which must be met when the sun is still yawning. Coffee helps. Rallying the kids around a common goal, to get out the door on time, is slightly exhilarating. Being smug for 10 minutes after the on-time drop off gets me to mid morning.
If my van could skip, it would.
Thankfully, our kids have been on the same wavelength. They’ve always been early risers and early snoozers. Until Archie.
Archie, who will be 10 months this week, thinks 11:00 pm is a good time to play with phonebooks in the kitchen. It’s prime time to crawl and cruise, to empty boxes and to overturn laundry baskets.
I don’t know how he got on this schedule because the other 8 of us do not operate well under those conditions. He was born into an established routine, but he’s blown raspberries at our nice respectable bedtime.
I laugh at advice to put him down when he’s drowsy or showing signs of fatigue. He doesn’t get drowsy or fatigued. Sometimes, he will fall asleep around 7pm, but he wakes up after about 10 minutes, completely refreshed and ready for 4+ hours of romping, puppy-style play.
I’d really, really, really love to put him to bed with the rest of the gang who appreciate lights-out by 9pm at the very latest. Aidan stays up reading beyond 9pm, and I’m fine with that. I like knowing they are all tucked away, cozy, poised for dreaming dreams of dreamy things. Having all 7 of them in their beds would let my husband and I have more time to hang out and chat, something that is hard to do when we are chasing and preventing stitches and thwarting and redirecting.
When he’s going at 100%, he does not tolerate rocking, reading, singing, or any other let’s-chill-out-buddy activities. He wants down. He has an appointment with the dog water bowl in the next room.
Any ideas on changing what appears to be an in-born love for the nightlife? Do you believe there are night people and day people? I changed! Why can’t Archie?
