Daydreams and night truths

After zipping outside to see our neighbor friends right after supper and finding creative and dangerous ways to play on the slide, we made our way inside and upstairs to commence the bedtime routine. No tears were shed; it felt as if I was living a miracle.

Finally it was prayer time and both girls declined an invitation to pray—they were ready to just sleep. After I prayed, my oldest got under her covers and said, “Mummy, can we do it like last night?”

“Yes, honey,” I replied as my youngest and I snuggled at the foot of the bed under the pink and white cozy blanket. We’d silently keep her company until she fell asleep.

We sat there for a few minutes then heard big sister let out one of those I’m-definitely-sleeping sighs. I carried the not-so-little one who’d been laying on my lap to her room and placed her in her bed.

“Don’t leave,” she gently pleaded.

“I’m just closing doors,” I assured her.

And once both closet and bathroom were secured, I got into my now habitual position, laid out right beside her bed, close enough to conceal my phone underneath it, glasses off, Brahms lullaby playing in all its tinny glory.

Five years ago, I was just a month away from giving birth. My stomach was huge. I was so done with pregnancy. And if you’d asked me what bedtime would look like five years later, I’d probably share a grand vision of how “Myyyyy kids will walk themselves to their rooms and stay in bed all through the night (rising only to use the toilet), and never be afraid of the dark because I’ve read all the stuff and have trained them well.”

It’s funny how some of the best parents have no children. It’s amazing how well we adapt to the shifts we never thought we’d have to make.

What is something you thought would happen a certain way that has turned out very differently (but not a bad different)?

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