08 May Embracing The Moment
Marian O’Connell finds that her response to her son’s bedtime demands turns from severe frustration to serene reflection.
There is an almost imperceptible change in breathing and a certain weightlessness that overcomes a child when they finally fall asleep. This is detectable only to the indulgent parent lying with the child and is the signal the child unconsciously gives that the parent may now leave the room. I know how to detect this subtle change because lately I have spent a significant amount of time on my three-year-old son’s bed each night. I can perceive it so accurately that most nights I can slip confidently away from his bedroom. But it is tricky. Sometimes I can be sure that the stillness and quiet signal the start of his slumber, only to have him leap from his pillow the moment I attempt to leave the room.
Soon after his brother was born, my son, who had previously gone happily to bed at 7 p.m., wanted me to lie down and pat him as he went to sleep. I had countless other tasks demanding my attention outside of that room, so I did not, at first, accept this request cheerfully. Frankly, when it first began, I found it annoying and frustrating.
I am a modern mum, so when a behavioural change like this presents itself, I try to ‘read my way’ to a solution. I dig out the books and I log on to the internet. Of course, everyone had advice for me: it was a bad habit, my son would become reliant on the indulgence, and it was essentially manipulative. To be honest, I sensed that I was heading for a nightly routine I would later regret, but with a new baby in the same room, I could not do much other than submit to my three-year-old’s will.
But I have found some pleasures in the process, which for some reason I admit to with guilt: the little singsong tone he adopts to accompany his plea of “pat me, Mummy”; the way he tugs slightly as he winds his fingers through my hair; and the way he thoughtfully rearranges the things on his bed to make room for me.
There are other advantages too. As I lay beside him in the quiet, darkened room, on his soft, velour blanket, my head on one of the cuddly toys he has carefully selected for the purpose, I have the opportunity to contemplate the sort of issues that rarely rate a thought until they require my immediate attention. For example, whether I could rearrange the furniture in the small room he shares with his baby brother to make better use of the space. I might determine our dinner menu for the coming week, or make a mental list of all the gear we need for our looming holiday. These may or may not be acted upon. But at least I have time to think about them.
My son (oh, merciful child) has decided of late to allow me to leave the room before he falls asleep for certain reasons: to shower, to make a cup of tea for Daddy, to do some washing or to write some messages—a list of exceptions I am gradually adding to and that he is gradually accepting.
No doubt, some will say that he has me wrapped around his finger, or that the arrival of his brother has had an impact on his behaviour. That is all very well, as far as it goes. But while I have no wish to offer up this experience as advice to anyone in the same situation, there could well be a lesson to learn here. You might not need to change your child’s behaviour; you might even end up enjoying where it leads you. And, if you do, I won’t tell.
Illustration by Madeleine Stamer
