You know, I'm not one to take away credit from the mamas. We do a lot of crap for our kids. We birth them, we feed them, we are usually the ones at home with them when they are sick, we run them everywhere they need to go, and so on and so forth.
Last night, just like 99% of other nights, Michael and I took our boys up to bed. I tucked them in while he got their movies started. We said our good nights and came down to bed ourselves. After being situated in bed for about 15 minutes, the first kid comes down needing a drink. Then the next kid comes down, saying, "I can’t sleep." And then the next kid. This goes on for close to an hour before the crying starts. Which is where we get to the point of this story.
Once I am settled and snuggled into bed, I don't like to get up. Not to check on the kids, not to go to the bathroom, not at all. My sleep routine requires staying in bed without moving to fall asleep. If you have trouble sleeping, you understand the struggle. Moving wakes the mind and then the mind doesn’t shut down. It's a whole process.
Anyway, my husband is the true hero at bedtime.
Child comes down crying. "I can't sleep because Rocks TV is too loud." So, up and out of bed my husband goes, upstairs to adjust the volume. Back down, snuggled in bed, five minutes later the third child comes down, "I can't hear my TV now and I missed a part and you won’t come rewind it so I can hear it." Up, out of bed my husband goes to adjust the volume for a second time and rewind the show.
Almost nightly he has to get up and resolve a crisis with the children. Maybe this is an embarrassing example of how spoiled I am, or maybe it’s a sample of how much of a pushover we are as parents. However you choose to see it, I am choosing to look at it as a way to recognize the dedication and true love my husband has for our kids. Because if it was up to me, the children would just have to deal, cause mama ain’t getting out of bed.