If I'd tell the kids we were going to China, England or
America, my announcement would be greeted by gleeful squeals.
Somehow, despite their adventurous natures, the prospect of
going to Dreamland is shunned with protests and sighs. I'm
not sure what this lack of enthusiasm could be attributed to
but I thought perhaps the monotony of the daily trip was to
blame. Finally, tired of the nightly revolt, I decided to
spice things up so that my children would embrace the visits
to that enchanted kingdom of Sleep.
The very next morning, the morning after Hashem planted this
idea in my exhausted mind, I set out with my preparations to
ease the dreaded bedtime hour. As soon as the children awoke,
I graced them with the exciting offer to buy them new
bedsets. I thought that maybe some bright colors, perhaps
birds, flowers or shapes, would encourage them to anticipate
the trips to Sleep. Puzzled at my out-of-the-blue offer, they
accepted immediately (why not?), afraid that this sudden
burst of generosity would disappear in an instant. They left
for school with smiles and dreams; they dreamed of a
captivating bedroom while I dreamed of a cooperative
bedtime.
Throughout the day, I planned. I invented other strategies to
alleviate tension on the nightly battlefield. I wrote a list
of all the problems so that I could then come up with a
solution. I knew this would be no easy feat, but when proved
successful, it would subsequently be deemed worth every bit
of effort. Even if I had to lose a couple of hours of sleep
while in the planning stages, I'd gain back that lost sleep
and more, in no time!
With the promising future as an encouraging friend, I
composed my list, which turned out to be longer than I'd
originally hoped. I'm hungry. I'm thirsty. I'm not tired.
So-and-So's bothering me. You forgot to sign my test -- the
teacher will be upset with me. It's too dark; it's too light.
I'm scared of monsters. I'll have a bad dream. Why do I have
to go to sleep so early -- So-and-So gets to stay up later
than me. I didn't do my homework. I forgot to call a friend.
I forgot to brush my teeth and I'll get cavities.
I shuddered at the mere thought of bedtime, but then I
switched gears. I began to entertain that lofty notion of a
pleasant routine. I just had to create the system. I racked
my brain for days and finally came up with a winning
solution. No one in the world, children included, likes to be
tied to such a rigid schedule; the project would have to
include some form of flexibility. I decided to incorporate
the ease in a most funny form since I was sure that the
children would take to it immediately.
That very aftrnoon, we went to the store to choose the new
pattern for the bedroom linen. After much negogiating between
all of the children, we finally compromised on a pretty
design with delicious looking fruit. I told the children that
if they were hungry at bedtime, they should admire their
sheets and dream of the fruit they'd choose at breakfast, in
the morning, of course. The children welcomed this purchase
with much appreciation and I felt intuitively that it would
prove worth every shekel.
That very night, when bedtime arrived, I came into the
bedroom with a little plastic bag filled with folded papers.
Curious, the children clamored to find out what was going on.
I explained that since it was a challenge to lead bedtime
every night and since they knew the excuses better than I
did, I thought we'd try something new. They greeted this
announcement with tangible excitement. I proceeded to explain
that every night, a different child would have a turn to be
the leader and everyone would get an equal chance.
With my eyes closed, I stuck my hand into the bag and drew
out a small note. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that
it read the name of my oldest daughter. Everyone was excited
at the prospect of this exciting game, a disguise for the
dreaded bedtime. My daughter took on the role and announced a
race. Everyone was so anxious to win that tooth-brushing and
changing into pajamas was done at record speed. Once everyone
was in bed, she took the initiative and gave out small cups
of water to prevent the "I'm thirsty" syndrome. Looking on
from a distance, I wondered why I hadn't thought of that
genius idea on my own. I guess impatience at a daily routine
can be blinding. I was sure that this system would be an eye-
opener for me.
A week went by and the results were mind-boggling. The
children actually looked forward to bedtime so much that
their homework was done speedily and the entire evening went
much more smoothly.
One night, as I came in to assign the leader, the children
chorused, "Mommy, we want you to be the leader." Doubtfully,
I agreed. I feared the worst, vaguely remembering the old
bedtime hassle. I began the preparation with butterflies in
my stomach but when I stepped onto the battlefield, I was
greeted by an incredible surprise. I knew that the battle was
over when they asked me to please be in charge again and
promised to do their best.
Of course, there are hurdles to overcome at times, but in
general, the nights are very pleasant. It's much more
exciting to go to Sleep because the room is inviting and the
Mommy is patient -- well, usually.
If you take the time to tackle the Battle head on, it can
become a breeze and sleep can become not only a normal
activity, but even special.
