Baby bedtime is my saga this week. I can’t seem to figure out how to get my little girl to sleep securely. We both struggle for control at night curiously wondering who will win. Last night my two year old stood with her hand propped on her hip with legs crossed rocking in front of her bedroom door. Stalling with droopy eyes and a sheepish voice she informed me, "Mom, Jo-Jo alking me! Jo-Jo alking me. You bed, Mom. You bed!" This translates to "Jordan is talking (drop the "t") to me and therefore I can’t sleep in the same room as him. I must sleep in your bed tonight. It really is my only option!" At this point I tell my creative daughter to hop back in bed and go to sleep. She looks at me with a grin and begins to bounce back into the bedroom singing, "Hop! Hop! Hop!" like a fictitious bunny. I wasn’t expecting her to take me literally!
Motherhood is a synonym for energy. It takes countless motion, action, imagination and creation to keep up with the growing inventions of my kids. I stood in Madelynn’s bedroom hallway praying for patience all the while feeling it slip slowly through me. I envisioned Shawn standing behind me, hands resting on my shoulders, offering me his patience to borrow.
How do I raise them alone? When my patience runs out, whose will we use? Where do we turn? God, show me how to do this single-parent thing. I am determined to do it. I just so often feel tired. I don’t even want to write this for the risk of misinterpretation that it sounds like I am whining. But, maybe it is human to whine once in a while and maybe if I am real in my exhaustion I can also be real in my victories. Such as last night when a little sun-blond curly-haired head hit the pillow and finally found sleep.
