I swear when Charles Dickens wrote the line “it was the best of times, it was the worst of times” in his masterpiece A Tale of Two Cities he was referring to the struggle to which so many can relate… that of putting a young child to sleep.
Undoubtedly some of my most precious moments with the girls have been at bedtime. Just the other night I was cuddling my four year old when she whispered, “buckle me”. A split second of confusion later, I realized she was asking me to wrap my arm around her belly, to hold her close. I filed that under “best of times”. It was a jewel, sort of like this:
Miley Cyrus’ engagement ring. A one-of-a-kind thing of beauty, way smaller than you might imagine for all that fuss, but cherished more than anything else in her collection-- just like my “buckle me” moment. Isn't it crazy how one little gem can cause such a wave of emotion?
But before you get all warm and fuzzy, remember there are two tales here, and the other isn’t nearly as heartwarming…
I’ve always blamed myself for my kids' poor sleeping habits. As a working mother, I’ve tended to adjust their schedule to accommodate mine- not out of selfishness, but out of a desire to be the last face they see each night (which now that I put it like that, sounds incredibly selfish).
As a result, my bed hasn’t been my own in years. I’ve been drooled on, rolled over and kicked in the face. (Whether the foot of a toddler or an adult, either reserves a spot in the "worst of times" category. Just ask Drake.)
So, I put up with this:
|(note the king size wingspan)|
And let the ladies of the house sleep better than I do.
Even the king reigns supreme.
Still, each morning, I wake up more and more thankful for the miracles beside me- both figuratively, and literally.