Funny story. Before we had children, I often considered myself a night owl. No matter how hard I’d tried, I never quite graduated into the morning lark category like my husband. I’ve always preferred my late-night hours, usually reading or watching a movie. Once we had babies, I realized there is no term for the kind of hours you keep or the kind of sleep you sleep (though I can tell you do not believe the advice to sleep when the baby sleeps; that never works). As they became toddlers, my initiation into morning lark status pretty much came as the result of being like one who cannot swim being thrown into the deep end of a pool. This shift also ushered in my not-so-good nighttime parenting abilities.
Thus, I’ve always been grateful for my husband’s chill abilities no matter the hour of night our babies or toddlers or young children needed a parent. Where my husband is the epitome of mellow and relaxed, I don’t believe I can be any more extra in the middle of the night. Because of this, I have had to have many a conversation with our girls regarding my nighttime availability. This was brought to the fore once again over the past couple of weeks when each teenager has dealt with sleeping while sick with a cold virus.
Fortunately, our teens can now understand my abilities (and lack thereof) for assisting either of them in the overnight hours. My abilities include the willingness to support them and the actual showing up to do so; my lack of abilities include a not-nearly-so-gentle parenting approach. In other words, I am a bit more abrasive and abrupt in the middle of the night. What I love and appreciate in each of them is their grace in the moment and their forgiveness in the light of day.
Just this morning, I reminded each of them of these truths because despite my best intentions and efforts, I fall short of my own expectations when I am groggy with sleep and the fog of dreams hasn’t fully lifted from my brain. And so last night, when my 14 year old needed to refill her water bottle, I was a grumpus who grumbled and barely put full sentences together. This morning, I explained part of the circumstances behind my less than responsive response that involved an unpleasant encounter with a house centipede that disrupted my brain and abilities quite a lot at 2:30 a.m.
While I wish I were a more equipped, more receptive, and more responsive nighttime parent, I have learned to accept my limitations and operate within them. One of the things I impress on my teenagers is that my response truly is in now way directed at them because honestly, it isn’t about them in those moments. I am not angry or frustrated with them and I assure them I am happy to support them even if my grumbles say otherwise. I believe they can differentiate those things now in a way they could not have when they were younger. When they were younger, I had to struggle to meet their needs or tag team my husband.
As a parent, sometimes we try to be too many things or do too many things that are beyond what we are able to do. This is why open communication has been so important to me for our family. I like that our girls can see and even accept my groggy grumblings for what they are, which is not so much a character flaw as a genuine lack of ability to tap into my nurturing gentleness in the midnight hours. That side of me always resurfaces with the dawning of the new day. My girls allow me the opportunity to apologize and, even more, they shower me with the same kind of no-matter-what overflowing sort of love I offer them, and I cannot be more grateful for who these two remarkable young women are becoming day by day, night by night.