Isn’t bedtime supposed to be a special time of the day? A time of cuddling with your children, telling them stories and singing them quiet songs, and then tucking those precious little yawning gems snuggly into their beds? Isn’t that how it’s supposed to go?
Why is it that in our house bedtime is the time that Angry Marc comes out to play? Before we had children, do you know how often Angry Marc would appear? Rarely. He’d maybe make an appearance when there was injustice afoot, or perhaps when someone was making repeated false accusations in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary. At all other times—which was most of the time—Even-Keeled Marc ruled the day.
One of the reasons Angry Marc rears his ugly head is that bedtime looks more like this: disobedient children ignoring the quiet song, getting mad at each other, fighting, not listening, refusing to go pee and put on their pajamas, then not staying in bed and going to sleep, when all I want is some peace and quiet, kids rested for the next day, and some time to ourselves. That’s an acceptable desire; but—God!-–am I getting tired of walking away from their bedroom regretting whatever disciplinary action I have just taken and then coming back later and staring at them teary-eyed, touching their soft faces, maybe saying a little prayer.
There’s got to be a better way to be a father.
. . . and Luke’s out of his bed again.