We are a family of routine. We have habits and schedules and rituals for every part of our days. Usually, those routines are what make our days flow well, with little disruption, but lately I've found one routine tiresome. The bedtime routine.
We've always had a bedtime routine. It has evolved from a chaotic frenzy in those first few weeks with Ian into something of a symphony with our now 4- and 5-year-olds . We all play our part and know what the other will do next. It flows from one movement to the next with grace and fluidity. And each and every night the routine and the day and the symphony of bedtime come to a close in the rocking chair.
Each of the boys has a rocking chair in his room. They were gifts from Nina and Poppy (my parents) before they were even born. They've been used almost every single day of the boys' lives. In the beginning they were used several times a day...at the very least for morning nap, afternoon nap, and bedtime. Recently they've only been used in the evenings as naps have long since been abandoned by the little boys that run through this house. A rough estimate of rocking three times a day for the first 18 months of life, then down to twice a day for the next 18 months of life, and then once a day from 3 years old on means Ian's chair has rocked him gently to prepare for sleep 3,650 times and Eli's has rocked him about 3,160 times. Figuring a conservative 20 minutes per rocking means that, collectively, Cole and I have spent over three solid months of our lives rocking our sweet little boys.
Lately, much less rocking is happening in this house. The boys are complaining they are too big to rock together. It's true. Two boys on one lap is impossibly crowded, and with Cole committed to the robotics team right now, I'm the only one available for bedtime rocking sessions. Ian is starting to think he's a little too old for rocking. While I disagree, I do realize that most children his age (he just passed that all important 5 1/2 mark) probably aren't rocked every night before bed. In fact, they probably haven't been for a while, but I enjoy it and consider it one of the most important parts of our day.
Last night I had the chance to rock with just Eli, and I could tell how utterly exhausted he was. When we were finished reading our stories I told him, "I'll just hold you and rock you until you fall asleep." He consented and snuggled in close, eyes shut tightly. We rocked and rocked, but I could tell he wasn't able to relax and drift off. Finally, he opened his eyes slightly and whispered so quietly, "I'm ready to just lay in my bed, mom" and my heart broke. I smiled as my eyes began to water and whispered back quietly, "Okay. Let's tuck you in."
I knew this day would come. All little boys grow into men, and it doesn't happen overnight. It happens gradually, one milestone at a time. Everyone warns you, "It goes by so fast," and you can't quite appreciate that when you're caught up in the middle of it all. But one day you finally see it, and you realize that that phase, that routine, that moment that you had come to consider a burden or tiresome was about to be nothing more than a memory whether you're truly ready to let it go or not.
So, I now find myself re-energized and ready to recommit to our routine that, in reality, is very dear and precious in my heart and not at all a burden. I can see the light at the end of this tunnel, and I can't slow down the speed at which we are approaching it. All I can do is hold on as long as I can and know that when the time comes I'll never regret wasting the opportunity to rock my boys just a little bit longer.





