Bedtime. I don't always bear the medal of "Most Wonderful Putter to Bed" with my children as many nights I rush through story time, deliver waters, 1, 2, 3, and count down the minutes until I can dive right into that largish pile of laundry that awaits me and nearly every mother I know at the end of a busy day.
Ah, a mother's date with the laundry, no matter how fancy and delicious her washer and dryer may be, is never, ever done. It's a burden I carry with pride, that one.
But tonight, as I'm rushing through teeth brushing and yelling, "lights out!" to the boys, somebody caught me by surprise. Somebody wanted a song from dear ol' mom. A song? You ask? From me?
I, like half the breathing people I know, have been getting over a cough and sore throat for what seems like eternity. Had this request for a song been delivered last week, it would have been turned down sadly with only a whisper and a promise to listen to one of our favorite Wiggles cd's the next morning because, honey, "mommy's voice is all used up for the day." But tonight, tonight my voice is feeling fine, fresh and well-tuned to sing a little lullaby to my audience of one who does not throw rotten tomatoes at my clear inability to carry a tune.
She just likes the sound of my voice.
No matter what.
So I "a'hem," a bit and I take a nice long drink of water. I pull all three of her blankets up tight under her chin and take my spot on the floor next to her bed. The lights are out but there may as well be a spotlight in the room, her smile is just that big in anticipation of her mother's vocal offerings (yes, I know it is shocking, but that would be me and those would be my vocal offerings that a certain little girl eats up like cotton candy).
And although I sound nothing like John, Paul, Ringo and George (not even close), I try to do the song quiet justice. For it has been a long cold lonely winter indeed.
What do you sing to your children at bedtime?