Bedtime

This is how bedtime goes in our house. Teeth brushing, goodnight hugs for Jules (if she's still up) and dad, reading and/or singing, prayers, tucking in, goodnight hugs for me, Josh making sure his blankets are perfectly aligned, Adam making sure all his stuffed animals are in the right order, more hugs, me saying, "Sweet dreams," me turning off the light. Adam saying, "Mom." Me saying, "What?" Adam saying, "Goodnight." Me saying, "Goodnight." Again.

And just when you think it's over...someone is up to use the bathroom. And then the other is up to get a drink. Which reminds the other that he, too, is thirsty. More goodnights. More hugs.

Then since Adam got out of bed, he needs me to come straighten out his blanket. More goodnights.

And just when you think it's over...
one of the boys: "Mom."
me: "What?"
one of the boys: "Can you lay with us?"
me: *sigh* (At this point I really just want to sit with a glass of ice water and watch The Mentalist or Grey's Anatomy in peace.)

But I get up and go in to their room anyway. There was a time not so long ago when I wouldn't go in to lay with them. "You are 7 (or 9) years old," I would say, "You should be able to go to sleep on your own." Then one night a few weeks ago I did go in with them and as I lay looking at the faces of my sons in the dark, I realized that any night now could be the last time they ask me to lay with them. The last night that they need me to be there as they fall asleep. The last night that I get to watch as their eyes close, and their breathing slows, and their sweet faces relax into sleep. And when that night comes, I don't want my answer to be "no." So I go in to lay with Adam, who scoots over to the wall, looks at me and smiles. As his eyes close, I pray for him. His future. His protection and health and happiness. His soul. The little girl who will someday be his wife. That he will use his sense of humor and love of fun to help him in his life. Then after a few minutes I walk across the room to lay with Josh, who scoots as close to me as he can, looks at me and smiles. As his eyes close, I pray for him. His future. His protection and health and happiness. His soul. The little girl who will someday be his wife. That he will use his leadership abilities and soft heart to help him in his life. Then after a few minutes I start to get up but Josh asks me to scratch his back. I do and after a few more minutes I really do get up and walk to the door. "Mom," comes a voice. "Yes," I answer. "I love you," says the voice. "I love you, too. Sweet dreams," I say. Again.