I’ve been sleeping with all three children in my room. Tom and Martha have been here this month and as they left my Uncle came to do some remodeling for my parents. The playroom is now empty, so perhaps we’ll use the playroom as their bedroom (the idea of carrying Laurel up and down the stairs doesn’t sound good, but I should get over that, I think).

The last few nights have been beyond frustrating trying to get them all asleep without arguing and hitting, without staying up until midnight playing, and without someone crying every five minutes for sundry needs.

Last night as I went to bed, I realized that part of my frustration is my desire to say “Go to bed” and not have to think about children again until morning. Indeed, in general, under normal circumstances, our children have historically gone to bed reasonably well (although we do experience challenging seasons from time to time).

Tonight I remembered that there is much out of sorts with my children. I put them to bed, read to them for about forty-five minutes, and prayed with them. I held Laurel’s hand and kissed everyone goodnight. I felt pleased with myself that I had compassion on my children, I overcame my anger, I planned ahead not to give a place for my flesh.

But they did not go to sleep.  And I was challenged again. Finally in desperation I asked my mom to hold Laurel so the other two could go to sleep. It’s ten thirty, and she’s still awake, but the other two are asleep. I’m afraid that I’m going to need to go to sleep when they do.

Then again, maybe that’s not such a bad idea, since I’d have a space of time to read my Bible for a good amount of time. It might also be good since my Dad should probably be in bed earlier and he stays up if we want to talk with him. Things to think about.

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