The Five-Stage Bedtime Routine

There is little more frustrating about being father to my little girl than bedtime. The routine is one of, if not the, most infuriating aspects about being a parent. We, or whoever is looking after her, will spend the day burning her energy off, and most of her nap times are limited, but to no avail. Sure, sleepiness comes in that she’s tired when we expect her to be, but sleep? Not any time soon! Here is the five-step path taken by my cherub into the land of z’s.

Settling Down

Stopping her from playing, from messing about with her kitchen and from running around the house like a mad woman is a challenge in itself; but eventually we'll have her sat down on the couch, dummy in and tablet in hand, watching her favourite videos. Usually she’ll be on my or her mum’s knee, cuddling up close as her eyes gradually begin to glaze over and her head starts to loll. She’ll be rubbing her eyes incessantly, both of which will be showing more lid than eyeball.

It’s at this stage that I’ll take her upstairs, attempting to pick her up as she suddenly becomes more slippery than she has been throughout the day. She'll slide out of my arms as she shuffles her way over to the other chair, digging herself, molelike, into its corner; all as her eyes stay half shut. I’ll get hold of her and, toys in tow, we’ll be on our way upstairs; her going limp in my arms as tiredness yet again seems to take hold.

The Second Wind

When it comes to taking her up to bed, you can always expect a bit of screaming to accompany her fidgetiness. She'll kick her head like a maniac and throw the nearest thing in sight. This, however, doesn’t compare to the experience of actually being up there with her. Then, in her head, it’s party time. Her mood switches and giddiness takes over as she jumps around the bed, bounding towards the edge and stopping at its corner; laughing her merry little head off as dread courses down my spine.

She’ll line up her toys, then switch and switch again; reading them a little story and singing them a song. She’ll make up her own little games, to which I'll need to turn my head s see me so that she doesn't see me smiling at her creativity. All of this takes place as I'm encouraging her, strongly, to lie down. I realise that I’m building a rod for my own back in letting her bring some toys with her, but previous tantrums resulting from us not allowing it have been far worse and far less effective. Eventually, satisfied that everything is in its right and proper place, she’ll cuddle into me once more.

The Fight of All Fights

If you think that is the end, think again! Any good drama has a great twist and my girl's bedtime is no different. Minutes go by; sometimes five, sometimes 10, but her eyes will never fully close. We’ll be lying in complete silence (but for her heavy breathing), and I’ll start to nod inadvertently nod off. Here is when she’ll abruptly sit up and once more move rapidly across the bed; akin to a monkey shifting through the trees. Her dummy will be removed and replaced on numerous occasions, and she’ll be rubbing her eyes so quickly that I’ll swear they're smoking. One thing that I can guarantee here is that SHE...WILL...JUST...NOT...LIE...DOWN!

She’ll throw her toys before putting them back into place and she'll attempt to kneel or stand up; reminding me of a drunk person trying to persuade a bouncer not to remove them from a club. Like the drunk, it won’t work and, after falling over many times, she’ll land in one spot; seemingly unable to resurface. It will typically have taken anywhere between 45 minutes to an hour by this point (and the rest!) and I’ll begin to see light at the end of the tunnel. Is she asleep though? Not quite.

The Resurrection

At this point I’ll dare to believe, and sometimes it will work out. Other times, her faculties will be regained as her eyes fly open in a way that reminds me of a vampire reawakening after being turned. She’ll sing nursery rhyme after nursery rhyme as I begin to feel steam coming out of my ears. Everything from Dingle Dangle Scarecrow to heads, shoulders, knees and toes comes out of her mouth in a seemingly endless fashion, and I’ll be doing all I can not to bang my head against the wall.

It will generally have taken towards an hour and a half to get here and more than once I’ll have contemplated throwing her out of the window. Thankfully, this is almost always the final stage, and during one of the songs I’ll notice that her eyes are closed, all while she’s still singing. That will soon turn to humming, then to mumbling; after-which the heavy breathing will begin once again.

Bliss

It won’t be plain sailing once she does fall asleep. She’ll toss & turn, she’ll moan & whine, and I’ll be on tenterhooks as I pray that she doesn’t emerge from her slumber once more. I’ll give a silent whoop of joy as she settles, statue still and dreaming. There’s nothing more adorable to me than my little girl when she’s asleep, snoring like my great uncle after too many whiskeys.

Naming this section 'Bliss' may seem like a bit of an overstatement, but after what can often be an hour and a half to two hours hard graft, it certainly feels like it. My frustration will slowly dissipate and my only worry is how long to leave it before I leave her in bed alone, tucking her up and exiting the room. After a couple of hours of TV, it will be time for bed myself, where I’ll drift off as I wait for the inescapable call of "mummy!" or “daddy!” some six or so hours after getting her down.

By Calum Dewsbury