Bedtime for Bonzo

Sometimes my husband and I like to play a little game called "Guess which kid is not sleeping?"  It's a great game, because it's a total crapshoot. It could be anyone of them, and any number of them.  Sometimes we try to guess the percentage of children who are not sleeping.  Knowing their napping habits during the day can help you guess correctly, but other times, there is really no correlation.

The morning, on the other hand, is utterly predicatable. Julia wakes up first, then Michael, followed by Allison, and then slug-a-bed Matthew, who always needs about 1 1/2 hours more sleep per day than his twin sister. That's close to 550 extra hours of sleep per year, assuming this pattern continues.  This boggles my mind, but they're different kids with different sleep requirements, and there's not much we can do about it.
 

Michael.

Don't get me wrong- we have sleep routines, we've comforted them, we let them cry it out. Once they're in bed, we leave them there. Their bedtime is reasonable-- 7:30 for the babies, 8:00 for the olders. Well-meaning people with good sleepers always have suggestions.  I promise you we've either tried it, or it wasn't feasible for us.  If my husband hears people talking about how their babies slept through the night starting at 4 weeks old, he will walk away from the conversation. Our kids just don't really enjoy sleeping- they're worried they might miss something really interesting.  They love to eat, but sleeping is more of a necessity than a pleasure. When Michael was old enough to verbalize his thoughts on naps, he flat out told me, "I don't like sleeping.  It's boring."  I guess I don't really blame him. I don't particularly like sleeping either, although I've come to appreciate it more and more both for myself and others as the years go on, especially the less I get at night.

Allison.

Both Michael and Allison, once they transitioned into their big kid beds, had tons of clever reasons they needed to get out of bed.  We would tuck them in, and like clockwork, we'd hear their feet pitty-pat, pitty pat, and a plaintive little,  "Mommy?  Daddy?.....

       I can't find Bear.

       My blankets aren't covering me very well.
              (As if the blankets are making a conscious decision to be lazy fulfilling their job duties.)

       I need to empty my bladder.

       I need chapstick.  (Do your lips hurt real bad, Napolean Dynamite?)

       I didn't get enough hugs today.  (This one is especially difficult to resist.)

       I'm parched.  (You're parched.) Yes, Mommy.  It means 'thirsty.'

We're used to it by now, and of course it's much easier as the kids get older, but I'm sure the twins will have a whole new list of Reasons to Get Out of Bed.  I've heard that once they get to be teenagers, you can't get them out of bed before noon. I'm skeptical, as I've heard Michael say something to the effect of, "I like to get up early so that I can get my day started." On the other hand, maybe they will.  The thought of four kids all still asleep at 11 am makes me apoplectic. Or maybe narcoleptic.  Or both.

Julia and Matthew.