Hard to imagine with all the talk of Rugrat Reprieve and the need for vacations, sex, and living a full life, kids notwithstanding, I would have fallen into such a boring old parenting trap, but I did.

My kids do not sleep well.

I’ve tried everything: regular night-time routines, punishment, exhortation, guilt-trips, yelling, begging, bedtime guardian, even melatonin… and nothing ever worked for long.

Fast forward a few years and now we find 6 1/2 year old twins who won’t go to sleep until 10pm or later and wake me up at night for bad dreams, water, and concerns about the international situation.. or whatever.

In short, life as a parent at night completely sucks. 24/7 suckage.

Sleep deprivation may be amusing as a 20-something who stays too late listening to a band play and mooning over the cute guitarist, but as a 40 year old anything less than 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep is simply untenable.

I was sharing my ongoing dilemma with my younger brother, and he gently suggested that I might want to start trying to have limits with them at night.

Huh?

“You know, rules they have to follow if they want to sleep with their door open,” he calmly explains.

Then, “If they don’t quiet down, then you tell them you’ll shut and lock their door. They’re old enough now, they know you love them, they are secure, and what they need is sleep.”

I pondered what he said, girded my loins, breathed deeply into my intestinal fortitude and sat down with the girls earlier this week and had a talk: I explained that they could no longer wake me up at night, that they need to sleep in their own beds, without playing, making noise, or complaining of the various imaginary concerns they usually sing to me about. I explained that I want them to sleep because I love them and I love myself and that if they want me to be a loving mother, I need sleep.

Rather than have fits, or argue, or otherwise disagree, I was floored when they simply nodded, asked me to repeat the consequences, and peacefully slipped into dreamland with the least amount of fuss we’ve had around these parts in years.

I was stunned.

Limits, it seems, were all that was missing over in this house of mine. Go figure.

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Get lost, Sun, and take your rays that sear my bloodshot eyes.

Come back in two hours, when I’m ready for your rise.

Shut up, birds. Be quiet! Stop that perky song.

Don’t you know that I have babies who woke me all night long?

Alarm clock, if you have the will to live, do not bother me.

For if your beeping dares pierce my ear drums, broken you will be.

Husband dear, I love you, but keep your distance, friend.

Your persistence in nudging me awake, may surely mean your end.

Sounds of energetic feet echo loudly in the hallway.

But I’m not prepared to leave these sheets and start another day.

My night shift was a double and seemed to have no end.

Crying, bad dreams, teething, all endless needs to tend.

Sleep, you have eluded me, for the fifth night in a row.

Rest, you have betrayed me. Your face I no longer know.

The only one who accompanies me through long and taxing nights,

Is my dreaded foe, Exhaustion, who afflicts, taunts and smites.

Isn’t there some other mom, who has the luxury of sleep?

Can’t you pick on her for now, so I can count some sheep?

Two hours is not a lot to ask to mend my mental state.

If you do me this small favor, I’ll let you stay up late.

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