Why is it that most chaos, damage and destruction happen at my house when I am in the bathroom? It’s impossible to avoid of course. And it’s not like it’s a leisurely vacation in there. It’s just a few seconds ticking off the clock. But usually that’s just enough time.
When Jake was about 2 that was the time the older boys in the neighborhood decided he could sit by himself on a tricycle. I was just about to walk out the door when John came running in yelling, “Jake’s blooding!” It was just enough time.
So tonight, I am hearing from outside my private perch, “Come on, come on just do it!” Followed by scuffling sounds and then loud crying and the inevitable, “Ohhh, are you ok??”
I come running out to see what trauma is unfolding but in my haste I jam my hand into the door and send my glass flying on the tile floor, shattering the thing to a jillion jagged shards.
By the time the mess is cleaned up, it’s time to get the little darlings in bed, and what had started as an evening of relaxation is instead a big frustrating confusion of politicking on who said what and who started it and who is mad at whom all ending with good nights that are more terse than usual and feelings that are most certainly hurt. None of the three of us are without blame, but that doesn’t make anyone feel any better.
While I know I will be picking up tiny bits of glass for days to come, that’s not what I’m really bothered by at all. I know accidents happen and the whole thing isn’t even a blip on the radar screen of events to be remembered in life. So why is my mood so glum I ask myself in the quiet of an evening when I’m alone in a house with everyone asleep but me? And I know the answer as sure as I know the sounds of their steady even breathing in their rooms down the hall. The real problem of the night is that even one happy bedtime stolen away is too many.
I know the reality is the happy bedtime routine I love is slipping away from me, and one day won’t be a part of my evenings at all. From the very beginning it was the routine that grounded us all through dark days of sleep deprivation, long nights of fever and croup, troubles at work and school, they all seem a little more bearable once you reach the familiar routine of winding down and getting ready for bed. Back then it was books and baths and nightlights the very same motions step by step every night so that we all knew every bit by heart. And even though the steps are much more independent now all the motions still spell out the ultimate peaceful end to another day.
Always, always the last step leads me into their darkened rooms to lean over each of their beds to hug, to feel their arms around my neck, to put my cheek against theirs and whisper I love you in each other’s ears.
What started out as a way to give the kids quiet confidence at bedtime has instead turned out to be a gift to the whole family. And I don’t want to hurry that moment even one time since I‘ll have plenty of time later to clean up life’s spilled milk and maybe even spend a few extra moments in the bathroom if I want to.
