Bedtime at the end of recovery day.
To all outward appearances bedtime has been quiet. There were stories and then the three younger kids all stayed in their beds. More or less. There were long spans of quiet interspersed only occasionally with whispers or quiet singing or the resounding thumps of a child trying to sneak out of bed. The scene appears quiet. This does not change the fact that 90 minutes after I tucked them into bed, knowing that they are all in dire need of sleep, they were still awake. Add to that the fact that Kiki and I can not watch Dr. Who until we’re sure it will not wake up a younger child or cause them to get out of bed and tantrum because they can’t watch too. Add to that the fact that I’m running on only five hours of sleep and I know I need to get up on time in the morning to begin reasserting the normal schedule, so I need to get to bed on time. This means time is running out for me to watch anything at all. All of this leads me to grouch at the kids and bark ridiculous orders like “Go to sleep!” as if the kids could choose to comply rather than having to lay still in the dark and wait for sleep to come to them. The fault is not theirs. Staying up until 1 am then sleeping until 9 has tweaked their biorhythms. I can’t expect to fix that in a single day.
It has been a good day. It really has. None of the tantrums and conflicts I expected showed up. I’m just tired and I can’t be off duty until they are sleeping.