Don't Let the Bed Bugs Bite

When it comes to bedtime, I’ve failed miserably as a parent. I am embarrassed to say that all four of my children, from infancy onwards, just never quite get to bed at a decent hour. My mommy friends tell me their kids go to bed at reasonable hours, like 7:30 pm. To add insult to injury, they usually tell me that once soundly tucked in bed, they remain there for 12 to 13 hours until they wake the next morning, refreshed.

My children obviously had a secret meeting in which they all agreed to keep Mommy and Daddy awake for as long as possible. Our first child was the worst, mostly because my husband and I were living a bit like hippies, working a bunch of part-time jobs, my husband going to school. It was a regular occurrence that he and I would be up late, typing up articles, transcribing interview tapes or editing a newsletter (me), or writing a paper or studying musical scores (him). Our little boy, only one or two at the time, would just stay up late with us, often past midnight, playing with blocks. It seemed to make sense that we were all on the strange schedule together.

That was my excuse then. Now, I don’t really have one.

The kids no longer stay up past midnight, but they DO stay up late. For instance, my 5 year old is often the one who reminds my husband and me that our favorite show is on -- at 10 pm. Does that make us bad parents?

But it gets worse. Our kids often fall asleep in our bed. I know, I know. I’ve read all the parenting books, and they all say that’s a big no-no. The little ones, teeth brushed and jammies on, climb into our bed and snuggle in between me and Daddy. We read stories, we sing songs, we talk about our days.

The truth is, I don’t want it any other way. My oldest is a teenager now. He is growing up, doesn’t need snuggles from his parents like the old days. I know that this stage won’t last forever. And I also know enough now to forget about the inconvenience, the fact that it’s a bad parenting technique. I love little kiddoes in footy pajamas, nuzzling up next to me and whispering, “Good night, Mama. I love you.”

I love the fact that I can lift them up, heavy with sleep, and smell their hair and feel their even breathing against my neck just before I lay them in their own bed and tuck the covers tightly around them.

Good night, sleep tight, and don’t let the bed bugs bite.