Night Moves


     My son is about to drive me over the cliff with his late night shenanigans (wow — did I just sound like an old lady there or what??!!) Our bedtime routine seems to be getting longer and longer with each passing night.  For some reason, he can’t seem to get himself settled down enough to close his eyes and get the sleep that his body very much needs.  

     If I’m in charge (translation: my husband is out of town or working late), I have the kids in bed with the lights out by 7:30.  This is not only because I know their little bodies need that much sleep, but also because I know I’m in for a good hour or more of running up and down the stairs to get everyone to finally shut the hell up.  I’m not really sure why my kids call out to me past 7:30 at night, since I’m not really even nice anymore by that time of the day.  I need some “me” time and get more and more cranky each and every second that it’s delayed.     

     So, last night, a night when my husband had to travel for business, I missed my 7:30 goal time by about 20 minutes.  I finally had the kids tucked away with lights out by a little before 8 p.m.  However, my son decided to continue with his recent tradition of seeing just how much he can get away with at night.  I kept hearing overhead thumping, indicating that some little trouble-maker was escaping his/her room.  After going up there two times, I’d reached my limit. Put a fork in me — I was done.  I was ready to take things away at that point.  As I stomped up the stairs, I announced that the next person to come out of their room was not allowed to go to camp the next day (clearly, I wasn’t thinking this through, because that would only punish me, now, wouldn’t it??!!)  My daughter immediately came to her own defense by shouting out her innocence in the matter.  But when I burst into my son’s room, I caught him trying to shove something under his bed before I could see.  The little sneak had gone into the playroom across the hall and gathered up a bunch of building blocks.  He was apparently hard at work on a rather elaborate dump truck before I busted up the party.  After taking away his top-secret creation, I warned him that the Wii would be taken away if I heard anymore footsteps on the floor.  And, surprise, surprise, the footsteps halted henceforth.

     When my husband later texted me to see how the night was going, I told him about the running up and down the stairs hoopla with the kids. His response from his cozy little kid-free hotel room was to not be too mad at our son.  He said to be grateful that he’s using his imagination and that he could someday turn out to be a future engineer.  You can probably guess how well this went over with an overly exhausted single mama for the night.  And you can probably guess who gets to play the cat and mouse game when my husband returns home from his business trip….


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