I’ll have the routine, please.

I began the thoughts on this post the last time I took a 10-day road trip with the kids. It’s now the second time in four months that I’m doing so, and I’m pondering the same thoughts again.

It starts like this.

I want to go see new places, visit my people, have fun experiences, leave room in the plan for spontaneity, and live in the moment. Including for and with my kids.

But I also want to keep the routine.

Why are kids so dependent upon routine? One would think that if a kid is tired, and it’s dark outside, and he’s in a bed, that he would lie down and give himself the sleep he needs as soon as the lights are turned off.

Not so, not so, unless the normal bedtime routine was followed. “Let’s see, we put on jammies and read a book; there’s my blankie; now mom is singing that song…Ah-ha! Night night time. Guess I should close my eyes now.”

Without routine… “I don’t know if I remember this bed into which you placed my teddy. ‘Night night’? It’s been hours since I had a drink of milk! And I can reach that light switch, you know.”

Respect the routine.

And it continues like this.

When I’m at home, I reject almost all outing invitations that involve the hours of noon to 3pm. “Sorry, I have to be home during the kids’ naptime. No, he cannot just skip his nap.”

I mean, he “can”…he physically will survive. I even will physically survive. But his attitude will be so unmanageable by 5pm that few things are worth that.

When traveling, skipped naps are almost inevitable. I cannot make anyone fall asleep in the car. We drove for almost eight hours this past Friday; Luke fell asleep for about 10 minutes at one point, but woke up at the next stoplight. (Thank you, small town Oklahoma highways.) That was Day 1 of 10.

Starting off the whole trip with a sleep deficit always makes for interesting times.

What’s that word to describe how the four year old also gets when she doesn’t have her “rest time”? She rarely naps anymore, even though I still sing her a song and tuck her in daily. She just needs that alone time for her brain to process how the day is going, and, I suspect, to have an hour ish where she feels in charge of herself instead of being subject to other authorities. I think it helps her comply more willingly the rest of the day.

I mean, I have set parameters around what rest time is, which she tested and fought frequently when she was three. Since I consistently enforced the parameters, she’s accepted them as law like Gravity: can’t fight it, just go with it. So now, she knows to stay in her room (“Unless I need to go potty,” she reminds me every time) but she can choose to stay in bed quietly with the light off and the door open, or to get up, gently close her door, turn the light on and play anything she wants within reasonable decibels (brother is sleeping next door, after all) without supervision, intervention, etc.

Slap happy, that’s the word. When she doesn’t have her rest time, her over-stimulation is often manifested as slap-happy-ness in the evening. Also, short-fused-ness. Please use words, Miryam. I don’t know what you need when you just cry.

But when we travel, grandparents, aunts, friends, whoever—sometimes even mom and dad just trying to get our money’s worth out of the all-day ticket to Sea World—wants to maximize time with the precious dear, so I oblige by allowing rest time to be skipped. Sometimes two days in a row. (*surprised/horrified face*)

Bedtime gets pushed, too, for the same reasons.

So, by “the routine,” I’m mostly meaning “sleeping routine.” The sleep routine is soooooooo important. To me. For my sanity. As well as for the kids’ well-being.

A couple nights ago I had a lamentation session with my sister about all this. I had texted Justin to never let me take more than one long family visiting road trip in a year again. We were less than halfway in, and I already felt “so done.” We’d spent the day with the kids’ great-grandparents, who have around 30 years experience with spoiling grandchildren, so of course bedtime was a marathon and a train wreck in one for me. Without Justin here to back me up, I needed to both go to bed immediately myself and to vent about it.

I’m feeling more rational today. I probably don’t really need to ban myself from long family visit road trips. I also don’t want to deny the grandparents their right to spoil my babies. But I also want everyone to sleep a full night’s sleep every single night. The thought had crossed my mind that I should never travel anywhere ever again, so the darling babies can sleep in their own beds where they already know how to go to sleep there quickly. But we don’t live near either side of the family, and I still want my kids to know their grandparents and their cousins. It’s just impossible to have it both ways. So there are compromises and lamentations and nearly sleepless nights…

Why, oh, why did Luke choose Spring Forward night to freak out about sleeping in “his own” bed (his assigned bed for multiple nights now) from midnight to 2am? Seriously?

…and tired/almost-at-my-wits’-end Mommy. But also there is family. There is grace, there are second (and third, etc) chances. And then there are my so so comfy sleep number bed, the baby monitor so I can watch for little rascals out of their beds from the living room instead of the hallway, and the sweet, sweet promise of regular routine and Daddy to back me up waiting for me at home in another few days. We’re making memories and fostering healthy family relationships right now. I survived many all-nighters in high school and college. We will survive an hour of missed sleep here and there for a week or so.

This is also why I prefer to do family visits apart from holidays. I couldn’t relax and enjoy Christmas in the midst of this type of personal chaos. That’s a subject for another day, though.