Some parents love bedtime so much that they put their kids to bed at five, six, or seven in the evening. If I tried that there'd be a Heissling revolt, guaranteed. Instead I try to have my kids in bed by eight.
Oh, and I loathe bedtime.
The past few months have been a living nightmare.
Living. Nightmare. Got that?
My children don't fall asleep no matter the number of bedtime stories I read or lullabies I sing. They just don't fall asleep.
"More! More! More!" they chant.
When I tell them that I am done, done, done, done for the day then they start in on the excuses. Miriam mostly whines and thuds her legs rhythmically against the mattress, but she does use the few excuses she knows.
"Momma, Momma!" is one such excuse. Another is potty. And yet another is nursing.
Rachel, on the other hand, has a whole repertoire.
Oh, and I loathe bedtime.
The past few months have been a living nightmare.
Living. Nightmare. Got that?
My children don't fall asleep no matter the number of bedtime stories I read or lullabies I sing. They just don't fall asleep.
"More! More! More!" they chant.
When I tell them that I am done, done, done, done for the day then they start in on the excuses. Miriam mostly whines and thuds her legs rhythmically against the mattress, but she does use the few excuses she knows.
"Momma, Momma!" is one such excuse. Another is potty. And yet another is nursing.
Rachel, on the other hand, has a whole repertoire.