Id vs. Ego

Here I am on the couch, after having not given Sabine a bath. She's asleep now, on my lap. I should be getting up to put her in the co-sleeper so she and I can both get used to it. I'm having a revelation of sorts. It turns out that self-discipline isn't something you can get better at. It doesn't become a habit. I am never going to get the hang of bedtime. I am never going to naturally be a routine kind of person.

These things will happen on any given night based on my amount of self-discipline on that night, not by how many days in a row we have successfully made it into the bed at a reasonable hour. It's like a person who is dieting. I don't think they ever get used to a strict diet, I think every meeting with a piece of cake is just as difficult as it was on the first day of the diet.

Even though Jacob might be getting used to going up to bed at a decent hour, getting into the pajamas, brushing the teeth, etc, he's not going to do it of his own accord. I have to be the one to tell him to do it (because Zach is already asleep on the couch). And if I'm downstairs folding laundry and he's there with me, folding alongside me and telling me how much he loves me, there isn't much to gain by sending him up to bed. So I have to decide what I think is more important: The short-term bliss of being together, or the long-term ability to read one's own sleep signals. Because when I'm letting him stay up with me, I'm giving him fond memories to look back on, but I'm also teaching him to ignore his body's way of saying, "Hey kid, this is tired. Get thee to bed!"

When I'm old, looking back to the time my kids were young, will I take more pleasure in knowing that I gave my children a good, solid foundation of sleep hygiene, or that I spent every moment possible cherishing the beautiful beings that they are? Afterall, I am obviously a sleep-challenged person and I don't really mind it that much. I consider myself well-adjusted in most other regards. Will it be so bad if my kids turn out to be bad sleepers? Is it selfish to want to take the easy way out? I mean, they clearly prefer to be with us, rather than away from us.

There's days that I'm in the mood for rules and I'm chipping away at the to-do list with a vengeance. I don't want to be slowed down by sleepy children. I'd prefer to be on my feet, and I'm sure the way to thrive is to keep a rigid schedule. Then there's the days when my heart takes over and we all fall asleep with limbs tangled together, teeth unbrushed and satisfied grins on our faces. Both kinds of days have their advantages. I just wish I could pick one already.

And so each night is a new challenge to work up enough strength to pull myself away. Here I am, still on the couch and I'm looking at her sweet, round face, the contrast of light flesh and dark hair swept this way and that. Tonight it's more than I can take. The weight of her in my arms feels too good to trade for the freedom of having two hands with which to type. I surrender to the inevitability that on this night I will not be letting her go.