Every night I wage an epic battle, me against the children for whom I prayed. That can't be English. Anyway, I set the timer, and then when it beeps I walk closely behind them like some kind of reverse mama duck, urging them to their beds. One goes easily, the other 2 have to be threatened, manipulated, and coerced up the stairs and then into their room. I, foreseeing conflict, fill their water bottles and make them go to the bathroom. I put the blankets on straight, because they " caaaaan't dooooo it". I close the door firmly.
Then, I usually go eat dinner and watch youtube while waiting for the inevitable I-spilled-my-water-I-can't-find-my-Curious-George-goes-to-jail-book-Brynn-is-touching-me-I-HURT-MY-FOOT-ELBOW-SHOULDER-HEAD-spilled-my-water-do-you-have-any-fried-chicken-I-don't-like-these-pjs. I ignore all requests except pain or reading lamp malfunctions. Eventually, things quiet down and they go to sleep, on the floor or in the wrong bed. Whatever. Fine with me.
Last night they were SO NUTS. They laughed for hours, which is so sweet except they only laugh like that whilst evildoing, and eventually someone always falls off the dresser or what have you and then it's screaming and chaos like the lake of fire. Still, the desire to not get out of my bed with my library book kept me in place until 10:30, when Toby called me to come open the door so he could go to the bathroom.
When I opened the door, they were both cocooned in their respective blankets, and popped up with underwear hats. It is moments like this that make me so, so glad to be a mommy. I laughed so very hard, and then I tried to make them go back to bed, but first an unnamed child went digging in the dirty laundry and put the wrong pair of undies on