Thanks to the time change, this weekend I have felt the peeling off of another layer of selfishness, and not without some pain.
Given the nature of his job, my husband often works evenings in addition to days. I single-mama it for bedtime at least once a week. Even when hubby's home for bedtime, he often has to leave again right afterwards, or work at home in the evening hours.
For the past six months or so, my toddler has gone to bed at around 6:45pm, give or take 15 minutes in either direction. For the most part, we've loved it: when Isaac is available, we have lots of evening time together, and when he's not, I have lots of time to do the things that otherwise don't get done. The super-early bedtime has been frustrating at times, though, as it has been nearly impossible to take him to evening services at church, or attend an evening Bible study without getting a babysitter, etc.
And so it was with much trepidation that we decided not to alter Levi's schedule at all when the time changed: he went to bed at 6:45pm before, he'll go to bed at 7:45pm now. The transition was seamless; he woke at 8am Sunday morning, napped at 2pm just as I expected, went to sleep happily at 7:45pm, and so on through today.
No, the problem isn't with my kids adjusting. It's ME! We reached 7pm last night, at which time Levi would normally have been asleep and I'd have been free to spend the evening as I pleased (as much as Owen would allow, of course, but he's pretty easy), and instead I had another whole hour in which to amuse and care for him. By the time Levi went to bed at 8, it was time for Owen to nurse one last time and go to bed. After all was said and done, I spent the entire time Isaac was gone on bedtime. No working on my Bible study lesson, no meal-planning and Netflix-watching, no catching up on e-mails or blogs. And now here we are at naptime, in which hours both boys used to sleep, but since Levi didn't go down until 2 and Owen gets up at 3, after I subtract the time it took to whip off this whiny blog, I'll only have a half-hour to clean the kitchen, prep dinner, fold a load of laundry, and -- wait, there won't be time for an "and."
Wow. I am being awfully whiny, aren't I?! Isn't this what motherhood asks of us, anyway? To do what needs to be done, when it needs to be done. [I won't downplay the importance of women taking time for themselves, to refresh and recharge, but that's another issue for another time.] I can kick and scream all I want, wishing I had those hours back for my own pursuits (and oh, how I do love to be alone on a regular basis!), but that will serve no one. I may have had to grit my teeth and bear it to some extent last night, but I recognize the futility of wallowing in self-pity. Instead, I'll choose to value the extra time I've had with Levi, to use a coffee table turned on its side as a soccer goal post, to make muffins, to take extra-long baths, to read an extra story or two. Now that I think about it, those things are more fun than making grocery lists, anyway!
P.S. My husband works very hard to keep his work week to 40 hours. The "nature of his job" is more that those hours are spread out over days, evenings, and weekends, as opposed to being neatly contained within a M-F/9-5 framework. I meant no accusations or complaints towards him or his job.
Also, came across this blog this morning and smiled at how much it echoed what I've been thinking about this week.
Given the nature of his job, my husband often works evenings in addition to days. I single-mama it for bedtime at least once a week. Even when hubby's home for bedtime, he often has to leave again right afterwards, or work at home in the evening hours.
For the past six months or so, my toddler has gone to bed at around 6:45pm, give or take 15 minutes in either direction. For the most part, we've loved it: when Isaac is available, we have lots of evening time together, and when he's not, I have lots of time to do the things that otherwise don't get done. The super-early bedtime has been frustrating at times, though, as it has been nearly impossible to take him to evening services at church, or attend an evening Bible study without getting a babysitter, etc.
And so it was with much trepidation that we decided not to alter Levi's schedule at all when the time changed: he went to bed at 6:45pm before, he'll go to bed at 7:45pm now. The transition was seamless; he woke at 8am Sunday morning, napped at 2pm just as I expected, went to sleep happily at 7:45pm, and so on through today.
No, the problem isn't with my kids adjusting. It's ME! We reached 7pm last night, at which time Levi would normally have been asleep and I'd have been free to spend the evening as I pleased (as much as Owen would allow, of course, but he's pretty easy), and instead I had another whole hour in which to amuse and care for him. By the time Levi went to bed at 8, it was time for Owen to nurse one last time and go to bed. After all was said and done, I spent the entire time Isaac was gone on bedtime. No working on my Bible study lesson, no meal-planning and Netflix-watching, no catching up on e-mails or blogs. And now here we are at naptime, in which hours both boys used to sleep, but since Levi didn't go down until 2 and Owen gets up at 3, after I subtract the time it took to whip off this whiny blog, I'll only have a half-hour to clean the kitchen, prep dinner, fold a load of laundry, and -- wait, there won't be time for an "and."
Wow. I am being awfully whiny, aren't I?! Isn't this what motherhood asks of us, anyway? To do what needs to be done, when it needs to be done. [I won't downplay the importance of women taking time for themselves, to refresh and recharge, but that's another issue for another time.] I can kick and scream all I want, wishing I had those hours back for my own pursuits (and oh, how I do love to be alone on a regular basis!), but that will serve no one. I may have had to grit my teeth and bear it to some extent last night, but I recognize the futility of wallowing in self-pity. Instead, I'll choose to value the extra time I've had with Levi, to use a coffee table turned on its side as a soccer goal post, to make muffins, to take extra-long baths, to read an extra story or two. Now that I think about it, those things are more fun than making grocery lists, anyway!
P.S. My husband works very hard to keep his work week to 40 hours. The "nature of his job" is more that those hours are spread out over days, evenings, and weekends, as opposed to being neatly contained within a M-F/9-5 framework. I meant no accusations or complaints towards him or his job.
Also, came across this blog this morning and smiled at how much it echoed what I've been thinking about this week.
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