A Bedtime Story

While my mother was in town she read bedtime stories to my kids each night, something that I think is a great part of childhood, but that I have not been doing. I used to sit at the end of the hall with the four oldest kids' bedroom doors open and read a chapter out of a book to them each night. I would choose something that would interest my oldest kids and not be too far over the head of my fourth child (the twins got their own reading time during the day). And of course I tried to choose something that held my interest as well, so I didn't dread reading a boring book.

Somehow this past school year I let the tradition go. Some nights the kids would get to bed too late, or they were sent to bed early, if you get my meaning, so story time would be missed. Most nights, I hate to admit, I just didn't have the patience for it. I love books, I love to share them with my children, and I believe it is important to end the day on a good note. But I get worn out. The cuddly, sweet, lullaby singing mom leaves at about 7:00pm. The mom who wants space in her head for her own thoughts and wants to sit down and read her own book takes over. I don't feel like being interrupted two or three times during a paragraph, I don't feel like reading over the loud rambunctious kid that can't settle down, and I don't feel like explaining vocabulary.

Sigh. Feelings of guilt. Sigh.

When my first child was a baby I pictured bedtime would always mean a warm bath to settle the child down, clean pj's and a favorite blanket, a nighttime prayer, a story or two, and the little one drifting off to sleep with a peaceful smile on his face and a feeling of comfort, security, and love to take him to dreamland. Fast forward to my reality twelve years later: bathtime is like a relay race, kids jockey for position in front of the sink to brush their teeth, one kid can't find their pj's, another is starving and must have a snack, another needs a drink and is sure to wet the bed if I let them have more than a swallow, hair needs to be brushed and braided, toys are being pulled out when they should be put away, and someone has an emergency because they forgot to do some of their homework or can't find the doll they sleep with, and by the time we gather for prayer I'm practically screaming, "Everybody be quiet so we can PRAY!"

How's that for a relaxing end to the day?

I guess it would be great if after all that chaos I could sit down and read to them while they (theoretically) settled into bed. It might even help them want to get into bed if they were anxious to hear the next chapter of a story. Have I been shooting myself in the foot by not reading to them? Maybe I can get back in the habit. It would be worth it. Perhaps I can find a book that I really want to read to them, and put the kids to bed at 7:00.