My husband and I are pretty equal when it comes to everything. Taking care of the kids, the house, our marriage — we both see it as a collective responsibility and enjoy being a team. I’m no passenger princess (I drive as much as he does). He puts away laundry. Together, we tag-team the dishes.
But when it comes to bedtime? I am 100% a bedtime princess.
I turn off zero lights. I don’t make sure any doors are locked. When I’m ready for bed, I go upstairs, and I go to bed. He takes care of the rest.
We do work together for bedtime for our three girls. We put on pajamas and read books and snuggle and rock. We’ll both come downstairs and knock out some “closing shift” things like folding laundry and loading up the dishwasher.
But in our house, once 8 p.m. hits, I am officially off the clock. Every nighttime wake-up from our kids? That’s on Dad. Every glass of water that needs to be taken upstairs? Dad. The stuffies that were left in the car and now have to be brought back in lest the entire house wake up from the sounds of our 2-year-old screaming? Dad’s got the keys.
And I just get to go to bed like a regular human being.
Even on the nights I go to bed and hear one of our girls wake up for something just across the hall, I’ll hear my husband come up the stairs to take care of it. If I forget a glass of water, he brings me one. He’s been known to literally tuck me into bed, then walk around to my own nightstand — mere inches from my face — and turn the lamp off for me. When I fall asleep with my book on my face, he notes my place and puts it on our dresser.
I am a bedtime princess.
To be fair, once 5 a.m. hits, everything’s back to me until he wakes up. I like waking up early, and I’m much better equipped to take care of the kiddos in the morning than he is. My husband’s a night owl — if it weren’t for children and work, he’d happily stay up until 3 a.m. every night and sleep in until 11. This setup just works for us.
Many nights, I go to bed around 10 p.m. while he’s just starting a movie (I could never), and I can do that completely stress and worry-free because I know he’s got this. He’s got the kids. He’s got the lights. The lunches are already made and waiting in the fridge for me.
Being a bedtime princess with a man who cares for me like this means I get to wake up and be the mom and wife I want to be. I’m well-rested, I’m happy, and I’m loved. Lost the remote? I can just text my husband, and he’ll walk upstairs and fix the TV for me with the app on his phone. Realized once I’m in bed that I didn’t flip the laundry? He’s got it. Suddenly remembering one of the girls had homework that needed to be finished? This man brings them back downstairs, finds them a pencil, and gets it done.
Now, if I could just get him to carry me upstairs when I ask, I’d really be set.
