Serenity

 

Bedtime is a battleground.

Again.

Every six months or so, the boys tend to rebel against sleep.  Usually, if we hold fast to our routine, the problem passes within a few weeks.  Not so, this time around.  We gave them an extra half an hour of wake time, but they just can’t seem to stop the sillies.  Their brother bond is becoming stronger everyday, which sets my heart a-flutter until they turn their teamwork to defeating Mama and Papi’s rules. 

Exhaustion.

Frustration.

Second-guessing.

We’ve tried every parenting technique under the sun to solve this problem.  I even turned scary-mom, which felt awful and unnatural, but I had to try it in case that was the one thing that would work.  It didn’t.  Nothing worked.  I realized that last night, after the third time I went into their bedroom.  I looked them in the eyes, and it dawned on me that they were just as helpless as I was to solve this problem.  I restated the rule, turned around and walked out of their room, then out of the house.

I sat on my front porch and stared at the darkening sky, wondering what to do.  Suddenly, the Serenity Prayer sprung to mind.  My semi-photographic memory enabled me close my eyes and read the prayer written in blue ink on a bookmark given to me twenty years ago by the late Mrs. Dodd.

God, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.

In an instant I received both serenity and wisdom: I can’t do anything to solve this sleep-silly problem. 

There is only one solution to this problem: Max and Jack just need to grow up. 

That’s it. 

They need to grow up and out of this problem. 

And they will.  The solution is already in place.  As I write, their cells are turning over, bones are getting larger, and neurons are rapid-firing in their growing brains.  When I kiss their chubby toes, I often wonder how much longer they’ll stay scrumptious before they morph into stinky man toes.  They are growing and I can’t help it.

Strike that.  I do help them grow.  Everyday I actively participate in making them larger people.  I will continue to feed them, love them, nurture them and guide them.  They will grow up and out of my arms soon enough.

The solution is in place.

All I have to do is wait.  Oh, if I could control the hands of time: fast, slow, forwards, backwards, still, moving.

The things I cannot change.