In our household, bedtime is as easy as setting water on fire. Ceci is 3 and has more sass than Moana’s grandma. Piet is 2 and he has type 1 diabetes. Piet was my husband’s grandfather’s name. And because I’m reading your mind, we pronounce it Pay-t. Kamden is 5 months and I don’t know anything about her. Third kid problems.
The husband works second shift, so it’s up to this momma to take care of bedtime business. It starts promptly at 5:30 when I get everyone in the mood for sleep by singing my favorite lullaby, “IT’S THE FINAL COUNTDOWN!” Air guitar optional. Just kidding. It’s mandatory.
Time for cleanup. This is where I yell at my toddlers to help me clean up their toys while I clean up all of their toys.
PJs. First we form a diaper changing assembly line. Smallest to biggest. And I change everyone’s diaper, rapid fire! This is a joke. I wrangle whatever child is in arms reach and I pin them down until they are clothed. There is crying and bribing and no one ever cooperates. This takes 25 minutes… 70 tops.
Ready for your celebratory glass of wine? Not yet! We have to avoid a medical emergency by checking the T1’s blood sugar. I prick one of his chubby digits. 104. WHAT THE CRAP! Any other time of day I’d be air kicking about that awesome number, but it’s too low for bedtime.
Now this happens:
1. Make Piet peanut butter sandwich
2. Give Piet peanut butter sandwich
3. Listen to Ceci complain about not having a peanut butter sandwich (This is a test. She won’t actually eat it, but it still needs to be available to her.)
4. Baby starts to cry. Not now, Baby.
5. Clean up all the peanut butter everywhere with a baby wipe. Bodies, chairs, floor, baby…
Next phase is going upstairs to bedrooms. Bonus if it’s before 6:30! Piet goes down easily. “Love ya, Little Buddy!” Now it’s time for Ceci. She needs me to tuck her in (acceptable). She also needs me to tuck in Bear Bear, Pinkie Pie, Pumpkin Minnie, Regular Minnie, Apple Jack, Sheep, Cinderella Baby, and 12 Shopkins (unacceptable).
Now the two older ones are in bed, and only a baby stands in the way of binging New Girl the rest of the night. All she needs is some momma one-on-one time, a bottle, and complete silence for her to sleep. Once conditions are perfect, she’s out. I quietly sneak into our bedroom to lay her down in the crib. O wait. Nope. She’s up again. 10 more minutes of snuggles, try again… SUCCESS!
All that’s left is the sweet sound of great comedic timing and a delicious, hot… And there’s Ceci. Needs more milk.
A delicious, lukewarm meal.