We have quite a routine around here. At the Brehm house, bedtime is a ceremony of sorts. Every night, around 7:20, we rally the troops, rock some “toys away” action, and parade upstairs for our bedtime ballyhoo. Barrett keeps tabs on whose “night” it is to put him to bed and Adam and I oblige. Whoever is with Barrett keeps him on track and the other gets Jonah gussied for slumberland. It’s a time of the day which I love.
Once Jonah is all jammed, he excitedly trots through the Jack n Jack into B’s bedroom and runs toward the parent putting B down with wreckless abandon. Snuggles abound. Next, he and Barrett exchange kisses and snuggles and then he waves, shares his form of “ni ni” and scoots back into his room.
Last night, after reading his book of choice {a few times over}, we said our prayers and turned out the light. Like clockwork, Jonah turned around and curled up right into me, put his hand up to rub his ear, as he does every night for comfort, and closed his eyes. Whether it’s Adam’s or my night, Jonah always gets serenaded before bed. It’s not even that he needs it. He doesn’t need the rocking. Or the singing. Or the snuggling. I mean, he deserves it…we should love on our children whenever possible but he doesn’t require it to go to sleep. He happily retreats to his crib every night. But I need that time. That perfect, peaceful time of the day where every little thing…and every big thing that exists…seems right.
Last night as I held him, I sang The Old Rugged Cross. I often choose hymns. The old ones that are so ingrained from spending every Sunday flipping through the red hymnals at the church that felt like home to me. And I as I sang, thoughts whirled around inside my mind. I rocked and sang and thought. I thought about what kind of person Jonah will become. And wondered what things Adam and I are getting right with him. And with Barrett. And what things we’re getting all wrong. I thought about whether the things we try to emphasize and emulate with and for our boys {manners, morals, faith, fun and family} will be the same things our boys will grow up to find important. I thought about what it will be like when they see the world through their eyes and their own experiences rather than the view that we are providing for them. And I snuggled Jonah even tighter. Because I knew that we won’t know any of those answers for a very long time. And because, at the end of the day (perhaps the most overused expression, as of late) — quite literally — as George Michael and Jesus said, you’ve just gotta have faith.
I am not proposing that we set a box of Honey Crisp on the table and turn the TV on every morning and leave our children to their own devices or that we don’t have to provide positive examples and influences, but I am starting to think that overthinking every single choice as a parent is a waste of anxiety and energy. Not that our children are a waste of our time and energy but overanalyzing each and everything we choose for us and them seems to threaten the joy that comes from the pure, unplanned moments of parenthood. The reality is, I am very fortunate to know people as parents who want to be parents. Who adore their children. Who do the things they do out of love and make the choices they do for their kids because they truly believe it’s best. And maybe those choices aren’t all the same choices we are making with Barrett and Jonah…but that’s okay. We’ve just gotta have a little faith that if we love our children and share our love with them, they will go forward with love for others. And they will set the world on fire.
And so, I stopped thinking. And I just focused on the singing and the rocking and the very moment we were having. The one where I could feel the rising and falling of his chest on mine. The one where I didn’t have to think about what Jonah would be tomorrow or 10 years from now because we hadn’t even completed today. The moment where, each night that I rock him, I fall deeper in love with being the mother to our two boys and that I am thankful that they give me so much faith in all things. And at the end of the day…it’s my favorite part.
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