Bedtime, I hate you. Bedtime, I love you.

This is what it's like at night:
"In 5 minutes, you need to be upstairs, getting jammies and brushing your teeth."
"Okay - upstairs!"
"Hey, turn that off now. It's time for jammies and teeth."

The cajoling plea "Oh, 2 more minutes? I'm almost done with this level! Please?"
"No. Turn it off"

The feet go slowly up the stairs, and enter the bedroom.

Random bickering. Random "No!" shouted at a sibling.  Sound of toys.

"Hey, jammies or teeth brushing! No toys!"

The baffled silence of kids wondering how their mom knows they aren't getting jammies on.

They have their 5 minute window, and then I head upstairs, or the teeth brushing never happens.

Daughter is usually brushing her teeth,  not yet in jammies.  Son is usually 1/2 way in his jammies, but still gets stuck in his shirt with all the gawky awkwardness of his age.

They argue over who gets to spit in the sink first.  They laugh at spit bubbles.  They count loose or missing teeth, and ask when they first got teeth.   Delaying tactics, but also the routines of childhood, marking milestones in their lives.  This is the sign that the bickering is done, and the teasing, and the "No!"  The sign that the part of bedtime I hate is done.

They've been asking for the same stories these days - a strange milestone for me, accustomed to daughters love of chapter books when son was bored by stories that didn't have pictures.  And now they both read for fun, and they both pick the same book so they can have 2 chapters every night and find out the story faster.  One chapter on son's bed.  One chapter on daughter's.

I tuck them in.  I turn off the light.  I sing a song for both of them - usually it's a hymn, though sometimes it is just a lullabye.  Then I sing them each their own song - sometimes one they choose, sometimes one I choose,  sometimes a silly song I make up on the spot as a reward for the rare night when there is no dawdling in getting to bed.  Then... oh then - the part of bedtime I love the most. The 5 quiet minutes of any kind of questions, or talk, or worry, or love, or dream they want to share with me while I snuggle with them in the safe place where they sleep.   These moments - I would not trade them for anything else.  This time is when I truly get to know my children,  when I can offer reassurance about their fears, or answer their hardest questions,  and they feel safe enough to ask.  Bedtime, I love you.

And then... it's a last hug, and a last kiss, and a last little caress of their cheek, and I have to wish them good sleep and leave, when my heart's wish might be to just stay there, and watch them slumber, and love them as big as the universe can hold.