We have had a major victory in this house. Every night for about the past year has been hell. No really. Hell. When we put Malachi and Isaiah into a room together, they did not want to sleep. Isaiah was still in his crib and Malachi kept climbing in and they jumped and sang and had fun until someone got hurt, and then they cried and screamed, and usually Isaiah would finally fall asleep out of exhaustion with Malachi lying on top of him singing at the top of his lungs. After a few months of that, they finally settled down, and while they goofed off quite a bit, Malachi eventually stopped climbing in Isaiah's crib. But a few months later, Isaiah started climbing out of the crib. That's when you-know-what hit the fan. I would have to go into the room multiple times after bedtime to calm them down, make sure no one had a concussion (Isaiah ended up with a huge bruise on his cheek from climbing the dresser and falling (jumping?) off and landing on the corner of Mac's bed), and try to keep the peace. And then Isaiah was somehow inspired to start taking all of the books, all of the clothes, and all of the shoes and throw them around them room. I tried everything to get this to stop: warnings, spankings, rewards and treats if he didn't throw things. You name it, I tried it. Nothing mattered. Every night was a battle, and I was losing quickly (losing my mind, that is). I disliked my kids. I never got a break, because the two and a half hours of peace and quiet I was supposed to get after bedtime was spent disciplining and cleaning up their mess. They would literally be up until 9:30 or 10:00pm! And while Malachi can handle that okay, Isaiah was a grump. And when Isaiah is cranky, watch out! The kid is intimidating just sitting in a car seat breathing, let alone trying to survive a day with him when he's in a horrible mood because he's overtired. I was frustrated, short-tempered, and ready to drive away into the night and never look back.
And then my mom. I love my mom. She casually asked one day if we'd tried putting them in separate rooms for bedtime (we already did this for naps). But I didn't want to convert the basement playroom into a bedroom (it seems cruel to put a preschooler in the basement to sleep, and besides, the TV and Aaron's weightroom are in the basement -- too loud for the kids to fall asleep). But after a particularly bad night spent yelling at my kids to stop throwing things, get in bed, and stay there, something had to give. So I decided to try putting Malachi to sleep in our room, Isaiah in his room, and then transfer Mac to his bed when we were ready to go to sleep. I'd been scared of this option, because what if he woke Isaiah up and/or he woke up and no one could go back to sleep and we were all awake until midnight?! But desperate times call for desperate measures. The first night Isaiah was asleep by 8:15, Malachi fell asleep by 9:30, and the most interruption I had in my evening was Malachi coming out to blow his nose. It was the best night I'd had in a year! And every night since then has been awesome! Of course, Malachi likes to come out and make up excuses for why he can't fall asleep ("I need to blow my nose. I need to go poopoo. I need to fix the blinds in the bathroom. The Cardinals are losing, but Jon Jay hit the ball really hard!" (he has learned that the best way to distract me and keep from going to bed is to start talking about the Cardinals -- works every time.) And I like my kids again! Isaiah wakes up smiling (for the most part) and is funny and enjoyable to be around. I get a break in the evenings to do dishes, run, watch a movie, read a book -- anything but discipline kids all night! It's fantastic! I feel like I won!
Bedtime battles aren't the only ones I fight (obviously), but they're huge. Just yesterday, I was trying to clean up the kitchen, feed the baby, get dressed, etc. and the boys asked if they could go play downstairs. Usually, this means that they'll play for 3 minutes before they either A) break something or B) start arguing. But after 30 minutes, I hadn't heard any crying, no one had come upstairs to ask for help, and things were calm. I immediately started imagining what I was going to find when I went downstairs -- all of the DVDs strewn all over the floor? A light bulb in the fishtank? Daddy's shaving cream smeared everywhere? Because usually when it's been relatively calm and quiet for more than 5 minutes, it means they've done something really bad. So I waited to go down and check on them for as long as possible, savoring the peace and quiet. And miracle of all miracles, when I summoned up enough courage to venture downstairs, there they were, toys everywhere, playing nicely. No DVDs or shaving cream. Just toys. They looked up and smiled and told me how they were playing drums and bowling. I about passed out from the shock. But it made me think that maybe, just maybe, life will start getting better. Maybe the tide is turning and, by God's grace, I might win this war called parenting after all. There are more battles to fight, and I'm sure I will lose many of them, but I can see a glimmer of hope. We might live through this season after all!
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