Putting the kids to bed is always an ordeal. We started out doing it wrong, and now don’t have the energy to change it. Instead of letting Buzz fall asleep on his own, I lie there with him until his eyes are closed. Some nights, this time spent in bed next to my son is relaxing. Other nights, it’s thoroughly aggravating. The yin and the yang. Kind of like the rest of parenting.
The other night, all I wanted to do was watch the conclusion of a television show, but as so often happens, it fell right at Buzz’s bedtime. I could tell that he was going to be excessively difficult that night, and I would miss every last second of what I wanted to watch.
I was right. He tossed and turned every which way for an hour, while I sat quietly next to him in the dark. I was frustrated and impatient. Apparently, so was Buzz. He began to whimper and pout, a pitiful enraged cry mere seconds away. Maybe he couldn’t get comfortable. Maybe he wasn’t ready for bed. Maybe he was fighting it with all he had. Maybe he could sense my mood shifting negative.
Even though I was frustrated. Even though I was upset. I leaned over and kissed the small curve of his shoulder. “It’s OK.”, I whispered in his ear. “It’s OK.”
I took a deep breath and exhaled away every bit of paltry frustration. “It’s OK.”
“It’s OK. It’s OK. It’s OK…”, Buzz repeated to himself in a sequentially softer tone. A short time later, he finally closed his eyes and fell asleep.
Maybe sometimes, we all just need a little reminder.