Independence Night

Tonight was a little bittersweet.  I have to admit that most times, I am very excited when my kids are independent from me. I love when they figure out how to do things on their own, when they develop ways to work around the situation that prevents them from getting the results they are looking for.  I enjoy listening to their excitement when they figure something out that they have been struggling to understand. When I first wanted to be a parent, it was for selfish reasons… a baby to hold and love; a reflection of my husband and I, cute, cuddly little bodies to snuggle with and adorable outfits to buy.  As the years went by, and we weren’t able to conceive our little bundle of joy as easily as most people, my attitude and heart changed.  I discovered that children wouldn’t make me happy, and they wouldn’t fulfill my purpose in life.  Even though being a mother was the desire of my heart, I realized that children are not the definition of who I am.

So when our first little miracle surprised us (after 13 years), I had no desire to keep her all to myself.  I believe that she is God’s, and I am privailaged to be able to raise her up and let her go into the world to serve the purpose that He created her for.  Don’t get me wrong, she was a year old before we had her stay overnight with any of her grandparents, we didn’t have a babysitter for her until after that, and we only let her stay with family members.  We are protective of our children, and they aren’t ever very far from us.  But I am very cognizant of the fact that even though we keep them close to us, they are completely independent from us.  They are people who have their own rights and responsibilities.  They are free from us at any time they so choose.  We are simply here to guide them into their own rite.  I believe we put forth a valiant effort to do right by them, to give them the best of us and to be stellar consultants to them.  They both are very capable without us, and most of the time, they make good choices.  We live by routine most of the time, because it helps keep us all on track and mindful of the activities we believe are important.

One of our standard routines involves bedtime stories.  We each read to one child before bed.  Since the five year old is able to read some words, we have her read to us now, too.  When one of us is not able to read for one reason or another, the other reads to both kids.  Last night was my night to read to both kids.  I read to Cheese first.  He enjoyed his story, and was ready for me to get out so he could play quietly in his bed with his trucks and cars.  However, I was feeling tired, so I decided to linger there, resting on his pillow, just listening to him breathe.  Before long, he said, “Mom, get out, I want to play with my cars!”  I looked at him and tried not to smile.  “But I want to snuggle…” He looked at me very seriously and said, “You can’t sleep with me mommy.  I like to sleep alone.”  And with that, I could not argue.  After all, for three years, I have put him in his bed and told him to go to sleep.  When he asked if he could sleep with me or daddy and I, I have always told him that only mommy and daddy share a bed because we’re married.  The only time we would allow any of our kids to sleep with one or the other of us is for a special reason (sickness, night terrors, etc.).  So he, in his mind, was doing the right thing.  And for that, I am grateful.  But to be honest, it stung a little, my baby not wanting me.  So, I left him, in his very own big boy bed, playing with his cars, and went to read to his sister.

After reading to A1 and having her read back to me for a bit, I laid my head on her chest, and closed my eyes.  “Mom, what are you doing?” She asked in a five-year-old accusatory tone.  “I’m just resting here with you.” I answered in my mock-innocent voice.  After letting me rest a few more moments, she said to me, “Mom, you can’t sleep with me, you have to sleep with daddy.”  She reminds me.  “But I want to sleep with you.  Can’t we have a sleepover?” I ask.  “No, you’re married to daddy, and you have to sleep with him.  You can’t sleep here mom.”  She tells me, matter of factly.  “Please?  I’m tired?” I mock-whine.  “Mom, you are making me hot!” she proclaims.  “Alright, alright, I’ll go sleep with daddy.” I resign.  And I kiss my first little miracle goodnight, and head downstairs, rejected.

Now, of course, I’m being extra dramatic here, because it just wouldn’t have been as fun to pick on my kids any other way.  And I know that by telling me to get out, that they are independent sleepers, and that they are on a schedule, with a system.  But I won’t deny, it was a little hard to take when they both told me no.  Not because “no” bothers me, but because they are growing so fast.  Those times of cuddling whenever I wanted are gone.  The days of sleeping together in the recliner are gone.  In fact, they don’t want to lay or cuddle or snuggle with me very much at all anymore.  And so while I’m happy that they are growing up and becoming more independent, I am closing the door on those “little baby” times, and that’s a bit sad.

Tomorrow should be interesting!