In the 14 years since I became a parent, I have done plenty of things I am not proud of whilealtogether; that book is interminable.) I’ve said, “I’ll come back to check on you,” and never came back. I did that last night, actually. Some things I’ve done have been more cruel: threatened to take a lovey, threatened to throw said lovey in the trash, turned the comforting bathroom light off.
“I work later a couple of nights a week, and those are the best days,” says my friend Amy, a mother of three children, ages 10, 8, and 5, who share a room in their apartment in Manhattan. “I get home before they fall asleep, so I can still kiss them good night, but they’re in bed. The chaos is over.” Leading up to bedtime, Amy’s husband usually reads to the kids and then they listen to a kid-friendly sleep podcast. “Sounds lovely, right?” she says.
The exhaustion, I’ve found, from talking to fellow parents, is twofold: We are worn out from our children’s shenanigans, yes, but it’s also a weariness from feeling as though we shouldbedtime when we do not. “Each of my kids wants to be hugged and kissed and told they are the most special person in the world. I feel selfish for resenting the energy it takes to do that. I know they won’t want me to linger forever. But this is also my solo adult time,” says Maria.
As for the expectation that bedtime should be tell-me-about-your-day-sugar-bun time, Harris says we should probably let go of that, too. “We need to help our kids wind down, but we don’t have to spend that time,” she says. Take away the screens, yes, but let your kids stay up a little later reading or coloring on their own in their room. Don’t fight them if the light isn’t out at 8:32 p.m. And don’t feel bad if you don’t have a heart-to-heart while sharing a duvet.