While You Were Sleeping

In our community, it is commonplace for children to invite each other to sleepover.  When I grew up, we called these "slumber parties" and I didn't go to many, my father thinking it wasn't a good idea.  My dad never felt the need to give me an explanation for his veto, but as a parent myself, I understand there are potential pitfalls when you let your child sleep at someone else's home.

When my boys were younger, I was very concerned about their safety.  I am still concerned, but now I am also increasingly exhausted.  (Almost 15 years on the job does that to you.)  Over the years, at times, the boys have been invited to sleepover at a child's house whose family we don't know.  In those cases, I call the family to find out about them.  These are awkward conversations.  Without offending the parents, I am attempting to discover if they have loaded guns sitting around, if they are drunks or drug addicts or have poor sexual boundaries.  I have found that coming right out and asking those questions puts people off and even if you ask directly, you are not guaranteed that they will answer truthfully.
 
When Secret Service was in 4th grade, a boy whose family we did not know invited him to a birthday sleepover.  We took him over and spoke to the parents to assure that they'd take good care of our darling.  I gave Secret the same words of advice I always give when dropping my kids off at someones house - remember to say thank you and flush the toilet.  Then, we went on our way.  The next day, we returned to pick up our boy.  He was in a cheerful, effervescent mood.  As soon as we got into the car, he excitedly told us he'd discovered a wonderful show, Family Guy, and had stayed up all night watching episodes.  As we turned the corner, we told him that we were headed to Lowe's to buy a new refrigerator, and he suddenly became irritable.  Secret grumbled that he was tired and wanted to go home to sleep.  When we arrived at the store, he snarled at us and crumbled into a heap, saying he was unable to walk.  Science Girl and I loaded him into a shopping cart and wheeled him around the store, looking at appliances.  Every now and again, he'd lift his head and mumble something but mostly, he was out of it, not waking to start his day until 5 PM.

A couple of weeks later, the new refrigerator was delivered.  As they wheeled it in, Secret looked surprised and confused.  "When did we buy that?" he said.  "While you were sleeping," we responded.

Sleeping Through the Night

My friend is a new mom and one of her goals for her tiny son is that he sleep through the night.  I am fortunate in that regard.  At our house, we are at the perfect intersection of children sleeping through the night and not yet having to wait up for teenagers to come home.


Secret Service has always been a good sleeper.  (So important in a baby.)  Sport, easy-going in most regards, has more often struggled in this department.  It sometimes still happens that we put Sport to bed and a couple of hours later, he pops up and announces he can't sleep. 


Getting children to sleep is an art.  When they were younger, Science Girl and I spent countless hours rocking them, singing to them, reading bedtime stories.  And at the end of a long day, it was always good fun to get to search the house to find the stuffed animal that they wanted to sleep with that night.


One of our go-to-sleep strategies was to make their bedrooms a place they'd want to be.  A couple of years ago, we went to buy a bed for our guest room and while at the store, both boys became enamored with the temperpedic foam beds.  Having no money of their own, the boys were not hindered by budgets, so they didn't see a problem with requesting that we buy them each a bed that cost over $1,000.  At one point in the negotiation, Sport collapsed on the floor model temperpedic mattress and declared that he would not spend another night in his current bed.  Sport proclaimed that now that he had experienced the comfort of a temperpedic, he realized that sleeping on his old bed was like sleeping on rocks.  Luckily, at that same store, there were inexpensive, non-name brand versions and the boys emerged victorious, with  mattresses that Sport said was like "sleeping on a cloud."


Anyway, periodically, one of the boys have asked Science Girl or me to lie down with them while they start to fall asleep.  I remember the last time Secret asked me to lay down with him.  I had several valid reasons why I didn't want to - tired, busy, etc.  But, I thought to myself, he's growing up, how many more times is he going to ask me to do this?  Mostly, he says good night and puts himself to bed. 


The other night, I was comfortable in my own non-temperpedic bed, remote in hand, pajamas on, when Sport called out, "Will you lay down with me?"  I didn't want to get up, but then I wondered, how many more times will he ask.  Secret hasn't asked me to lay down with him for two years.  I put down the remote and went.

The Hungry Caterpillar

Here, in Denver, school is almost out for the year.  The end of each school year always causes me to reflect and feel nostalgic about the boys growing up.  This year is especially poignant because Sport is completing elementary school.   He's fine about it, of course, my kids adjust better to these developmental changes than I do.  They embrace the changes while I experience some loss with every change they make.  I didn't know this before I became a parent, didn't know that there would be a trace of sadness with every developmental gain.  I was thrilled when they learned to walk and to talk.  So, I was surprised that after they learned to walk, they used those chubby little toddler legs to walk away from me and when they talked, they disagreed with me, saying "no" at every opportunity.  I had always thought that children becoming independent was a good thing, a desirable outcome.  It was only when I was the parent did I realize that it didn't always feel 100 percent good to have them becoming independent from me.

We've had another developmental milestone here.  Secret Service, the boy who grew so slowly that  he was able to wear the same jacket throughout elementary school, has had a growth spurt in this past year.  A couple of months ago, when we measured him, he announced that as soon as he was taller than me, he'd be in charge.  Although I assured him this wasn't the way it worked, I'm not sure I convinced him.  Even without the hope of running the family, Secret seemed determined to grow.  He kept insisting that he was taller than me and I put up a good fight, even styling my hair to be puffier on top and finding tennis shoes with a platform bottom which gave me some additional height.  However, within the last few weeks, I have come to accept that he is now taller than I am.  On one hand, I know this is good.  On the other hand  . . .

Remember the children's book The Hungry Caterpillar?  When the boys were little, I read it to them countless times.  Only recently, I have decided that it is a metaphor about teenagers.  Currently, my boys eat like that caterpillar - one steak, one bushel of strawberries, one family size bag of pretzels, one entire pizza, one gallon of milk.  And soon, just like the caterpillar in the story, the boys will undergo a metamorphosis and emerge . . .  grown up . . . and then fly away, like that caterpillar turned butterfly did.  And, when that happens, I'll be proud and I'll celebrate, with just a twinge of sadness and tears streaming down my face.