“I don’t want to go to bed.”
The shower has been running for 25 minutes. I can hear singing. She hasn’t washed her hair yet.
Speaking of hair—one of the girls cut her own yesterday. And no, it’s not the one you’re thinking. I’m still upset about it. I don’t want to be upset about it.
I’m longing to curl up in my chair and watch TV. But I begged God for this gig!
I hear the bedroom door open and close with a whump; here she comes again. This is the fifth time I’ve walked her back to bed.
“I love you! Sweet dreams!” Please, just go to sleep!
Forgotten homework is just now being attempted at the dining table. No one understands this new way of doing long division. The pages are wet with tears.
I do my best to comfort, calm, and reassure, but it feels more like I’m crashing and burning and taking everyone down with me.
It’s gotten too late, so we call it quits and send her to brush her teeth. Her shoulders slump in defeat. I remember being nine and hoping no one would remind me to brush my teeth.
I initial the homework sheet and slide the binder back into her backpack.
She’s singing in the bathroom again. Can you brush your teeth and sing at the same time?
I thought for sure sleep had claimed little sis by now, but suddenly she’s standing next to me and I jump. She’s stealthy.
Back to bed, one more time.
And then on to the next bedroom. “It’s late,” I say. “Just 10 minutes and then lights out, okay?” I wink. She gives me a knowing smile and pulls a book from under her pillow.
Some nights bedtime is sweet and dreamy. Other nights, it’s… something else.
But still I say, for these things I am thankful.
You’ve found me in the midst of a month-long mission to document and give thanks for the everyday, mundane, and beautiful.