I have said goodnight to my children approximately six thousand times.
I lay them down in their cribs after kissing the tops of their soft heads, inhaling deeply to catch that delicious sweet baby scent. One night I smelled that scent for the very last time. I don’t remember when my youngest stopped smelling like a baby, or when that last night was. But I do still inhale deeply when I hug my children, as if the memory of that scent that will keep them with me a little longer. The sniffing is not well received by adolescents, so I do it softly and when no one else is looking.
In their big-kid beds, I settled next to them and read aloud – first just me, and later, taking turns. One night, on a night I don’t remember now, we read together for the last time. I wistfully glance at the neglected stories strewn about their messy bookshelves; these books hold years of goodnights within their pages.
The stories are no longer told, but I still snuggle and tuck every night. I climb over the half dozen pillows on my daughter’s queen bed, and nestle in the cocooned sanctuary she creates each evening. I jockey for position in my son’s twin bed, grateful that his lean frame leaves enough room for me to lie on my side next to him. We chat for a few minutes, and I brush the hair from their foreheads in the universal way of mothers.
Sometimes I am settled in my own bed before my teenagers are in theirs. Sometimes is most times since high school began, as homework demands and the adolescent body clock prohibit a reasonable bedtime. On those late evenings, my children climb into my bed for our goodnights. I tuck them in, snuggle, and sing the Shema, the Hebrew prayer we always sing together. The prayer is the constant; no matter whose bed we are in, it is always sung. When I am not home, they sing it with Matt, or sing it with one another. It completes their day and ushers them into their dreams. I have sung the Shema to or with my children approximately six thousand times.
I kiss them goodnight and watch them leave, to go back to their own rooms and their own beds. One day, they will tuck themselves in every night. One night will be our last one to sing the Shema together. I don’t know when that night will be, but I will not let it pass unrecognized like the other Lasts. I will inhale deeply, hug long and hard, and brush the hair from my grown-up babies’ faces.
We will not sing the Shema together forever, but I hope my children will sing it to themselves. I hope they will know that their mother is singing it too, to usher them into their dreams.
This got me choked up for missing my kid (Phoenix)…though not human…the emotions expressed by you and felt by me where completely the same, Dana. I’m glad you treasure every minute you have with them 🙂
Thanks, Mike – I do.
I miss that baby smell. I know I sat with Butterfly on my lap yesterday and just smelled her head. I’m sure she would’ve thought I was crazy, but she doesn’t know what crazy is yet. Their beds are not yet of the size that I can climb in, but I’d love to. Sweet.
Thanks, April. Smell that head for as long as you can!
Dana, this is so beautiful and now I’m starting my day crying my mommy eyes out. Bedtime is so precious. It is also annoying and frustrating. But I know the bedtime rituals we have won’t last forever and for me, with one child, those lasts will be all too sudden so I try so hard not to miss them. But like you said, you don’t always know when they happen. This was beautiful.
Thank you so much, Lisa. You’re right – bedtime can be frustrating, and it’s the time of day when my patience is frayed. It’s hard to take a moment and appreciate the stillness, when all I want to do is get them to bed. But I try, because I will have plenty of nights without them here with me. Now I’m crying…
Well, not my eyes are wet and my nose is crinkly! This is so sweet, Dana. For the record, when we visit my parents my mom and I both sing and pray with the kids before bedtime. It’s nice to sing those bedtime songs with my mom even if we didn’t do it exactly that way when I was a kid.
That is so lovely, Rabia! Every once in a while Matt and I will sing the Shema together with the kids – it makes me feel very warm and fuzzy.
I can tell by your post titles when you are going to make me cry. So bittersweet when they grow up. Motherhood is the most heart wrenching thing I have ever done.
Me too, Tara. And you’ll have to tell me if a post title ever misleads you!
This is beautiful! It reminds me of the “I’ll Love You Forever” book that I refuse to buy for our own library because it’ll make me cry every time I read it to my kids. I do cherish all the goodnights with my babies..I still have a long way to go, though!
So beautiful… I’m certain that, even after they have left home, your kids will sing the Shema to themselves and someday to their own children.
I’m typing this comment as I wait to board a plane and fly away from my babies for the next four nights. And even though I call and tuck them in from across the country, it’s just not the same as breathing in their sweet scent. This is beautiful, Dana.
Thank you so much, Nicole. Have a safe trip! When will someone invent a phone you can smell through? If only…
I hope my children will sing it to themselves. I hope they will know that their mother is singing it too, to usher them into their dreams.***
beautiful. xx
Thank you Kim. xoxo
I may not be to your kids’ ages yet, but I’m so feeling this post! We’ve been reading to our kid(s) for over 5 years now, and I realized recently that we’re probably not going to have it so sweet for much longer. I love that you still put your kids to bed these days. Hopefully, we can do the same in our family.
I hope you can too. It’s just never been a question in our house – Mom and Dad tuck you in and say goodnight. I do miss reading sometimes, though.
This is beautiful! I still do the same thing with my children, 12 and 9. I actually still pause and smell them even at this age. My daughter tells me it’s weird, that we’re not dogs, but then she giggles and leans in a bit. When my husband is traveling, they still like to climb into bed with me for the night (thank goodness for a king size bed). I loved this post. Very touching. Thank you for sharing!
I smell my kids too – it sounds creepy but I know you understand!
Dana, this is so beautiful in so many ways. The Shema is like a gift you and your kids share so that no matter what, you’ll always be connected, even if it’s just for a fleeting few moments before they fall asleep. I really appreciate your tenderness here.
Thanks, Lisa. You’re right – the Shema is a gift we share no matter what. We could even sing it on the phone if we were apart. My daughter’s college roommate may give her strange looks, but I would never refuse her if she asked. 🙂
VERY TRUE! Before long, they’ll have their “own” lives and may not live with us anymore. And when that time comes, we may not be able to tuck them in every night but we always wish they remember that. I always love watching my son fall asleep. Great post Dana!
Thanks, Rea. On the rare nights that I’m still awake when my kids fall asleep, I do love peeking in on them, and remembering the little ones they used to be.
Beautiful, Dana. Our bedtime routine is a big deal here, too. This brought tears to my eyes.
I will take that as a compliment – thank you, Stephanie.
Dana… I think this is your best post yet. Wow. This resonates with me so much even though my eldest is only five lol. I’ve felt those things with him, though. The last time we said ‘night ‘night to the things in his room before he got too big for it. The last time I carried him with one arm like a baby. And now with the twins reaching two-years-old, and them likely being my last… I don’t know how I’ll manage when they become full-fledged “kids” and gasp! tweens! Thanks for writing this. This was so beautifully written.
Thank you so much, Nina – your comment means so much to me! You’ll manage, and you will remember the lasts because you are aware of them. I think so much of parenting is being aware and in the moment. I’m so glad this post resonated with you.
Ah…. what they ALL said!! This was just so powerful. I gasped, thinking of my own ‘lasts’ with my kids and how it escapes me too many times. You said it so perfectly here, and I can picture you with your kids and how you snuggle in and sing with them every night- or Matt does, when you aren’t home. I love the consistency and intention that will remain IN all of your hearts forever.
Oh Dana… I just adore your words- <3
Thanks you so much, Chris. Intention – I like that word as a way to describe it.
Aw, another sentimental post. I’m going through a similar change with my teenagers, and I miss when I don’t get to at least say goodnight and steal a kiss. We haven’t been as good about praying- thanks for the reminder to hold to that ritual.
There are times when I fall asleep before my teen comes in to say goodnight, and I wish I didn’t. I think we both find comfort in the goodnights.
OH, I love your nightly traditions!!
We have always done the tuck-ins, books, hugs…..Now it is a hug and kiss and and I love you, sleep good. I will take it:)
I’d take it too, Kim – if we get that from our teenagers, I think that is fabulous!
How beautiful! I love that my kids still say good night to me and don’t just head off to bed. Special times for you and your kids!
Yes they are, and they become more special as the inevitable end draws closer. I love that your kids still say goodnight to you too!
This. Tears and smiles and love. And sadness. For the inevitable last time you will say Shema with them. But for now, I am just allowing your beautiful words to cover me like a gentle, soft blanket. Thank you, Dana. xo
Thank you, Nicki. Your words of encouragement have meant more than you know these past two weeks.
Ack, this is so beautiful. I already know I’m going to submit it to VOTY 2015 a year from now, but please send it to HuffPo!
I’m still in the thick of kid smells and elaborate bedtimes and many, many books on the couch. I love it but I don’t enjoy it as much as I should, instead telling myself that it will end.
I need to slap myself.
I will send it Tamara – thanks for the encouragement! Don’t slap yourself – maybe a soft pinch.
Oh, Dana, that gave me the chills. I hope you submit it for VOTY. It is breathtaking. I recently rocked my three-year-old before bed for the last time. I knew it was the last time. She fell asleep and I sobbed. I think about this often. Beautiful post.
Oh, Stephanie – I’m sad for your last, but I’m glad you knew it for what it was and let its significance bring you to tears. I wish I had known my children’s lasts, even though it was easier at the time to not know.
So beautiful, Dana, and just breaks my heart. Maybe because i just got out of my son’s bed after helping him fall asleep for his nap on a troubled afternoon. He smelled perfect, and I wondered how many times I would get to do that. A few nights ago my daughter asked me to lie down and tell her about when I was in school. It was wonderful. They’re so warm! If only those moments could last forever.
I know, Sarah. They can’t, but we can remember them forever if we take the time to let them sink in. Inhale deeply, hug tightly – all of it.
Gosh Dana, I choked up. Especially the part about reading and the books being on the shelf. Ouch. Especially with my recommitment to reading to the kids. Wow, wow, wow. So they won’t let me read to them in high school? I miss the baby smell, too:(.
Mine won’t let me read. My high schooler doesn’t have time to read for pleasure, really. And my son doesn’t want to. It makes me sad.
I have a bedtime ritual with my kids also. The Sh’ma is part of it as well, although the kids say/sing it, not me. It’s a good time, even as they grow older, and part of our family bond.
It is for us too, Anna. It’s so nice to have something stay the same even as the kids grow.
Oh, Dana. This is so beautiful. What a tremendous way to pay tribute to your six thousand nights.
Thank you Kerri!
This is beautiful, Dana!!! I still go in to kiss each of my girls one last time before I go to bed myself. I know that won’t always be the case and I treasure those moments so much!
I’m glad you do, Lisa!
Dana, I don’t want to repeat what everybody else has said but….this post made me cry, it was beautiful! Every time I babysit for you or your sister’s kids, the grandchildren request my singing the Shema with them. I only know your first verse but I guess that’s okay. It’s a wonderful tradition. May the memories continue.
It’s more than okay – I think it’s a comfort to them to sing it with you. I love singing it with my niece and nephew, too. Although Jenna does it differently – I sing it first, and then she sings it alone. It makes me smile 🙂
*sigh*
This is beautiful. I miss snuggling my kids goodnight…thank you for bringing back such warm memories.
You’re welcome, Jenn. I’m happy my kids still let me snuggle!
So beautiful. My kids are older and the routines are changing but keeping that goodnight is so important and I hate that one day they won’t be in my home:( Thank you for reminding me to inhale deeply.
My pleasure, Leah. I hate that my kids won’t be in my home one day either, although that’s what supposed to happen, right?
This is such a beautiful post, Dana. I feel like Eve doesn’t quite have that baby smell anymore. I suppose it’s because she no longer nurses. Although I did just smell her after reading this, and she still smells pretty darn delicious! That tradition of singing the Shema sounds lovely. Sam and I recently hung up some mezuzahs in his house and explained to him what the scrolls inside said.
I love that you smelled Eve after reading this, Bev. And I love that I’ve been singing the Shema since before my kids remember.
I think I need to go crawl into my kid’s beds right now and just listen to them breathe! This was absolutely beautiful Dana!!!
Thanks Allie. I’m jealous that at 6:48 both of your kids are sleeping. Mine are up and not happy about it. TGIF!
A beautiful, touching piece………..
May God Bless all of you ALWAYS…
🙂
Thank you so much!
Awwwww…. I could never sing to my kids. My voice terrifies them. My singing makes dogs bark and horses whinny. But if I could sing, I would sing the lullaby my mother sang to me. Someday, your kids will be singing that song with their kids, and it will mean the world to them.
I do hope so, Michelle. I would love to be able to sing it with my grandchildren one day.
Hi Dana, I recently found your blog via Allie Smith. I immediately took to it, especially loving the Les Miz reference in your About Me page. : ) This post you wrote about the good nights brought tears to my eyes, espcially as I read how you sing Shema with your children every night. That is a part of our routine too. Usually I sing it, but in recent years my kids sometimes want to be the ones to say it and I just listen. Either way, they know it means it’s really time to settle down and say good night. I love having that prayer be what they hear before they head into their dreams. Thanks for sharing your beautiful words.
What they hear before they head into the dreams…yes. So nice to know that you have that experience too, Mimi. Thank you for sharing that, and for your lovely comment! I’m glad you found me; I’m always thrilled to meet another Les Miz lover. 🙂
You nearly freakin made ME cry!
This is my second favourite of yours ever. Love, love, LOVE it. Dana you write so evocatively.
Keep singing to those children of yours, and may you have thousands more nights left to sing them the shema, from wherever you sing it.
Danggg, this is beautiful 🙂
I’m so glad you liked this one, Lizzi. I had a feeling about it. I made Gwen cry too – she texted me from school.
Ohhhhh poor Gwen! You ROTTER!
(still SO cool that your writing has such power, right? 😉 )
Very cool!
Aw this is just lovely. My niece has a 10 month old and I got to babysit him yesterday. He took 2 naps and both times I lingered. Couldn’t help myself. I really appreciate it so much more now. Good on you for appreciating it now. As it happens.
Thanks, Kelly. I have to remind myself sometimes, but I do need to appreciate it now.
This is so, so sweet. I’m right in the thick of bedtime struggles with a rambunctious preschooler and usually overtired baby, but I still cherish those sweet quiet moments settling them down to bed.
When I had rough bedtimes with my kids, I used to go in and watch them sleep, so I could go to bed remembering that instead of the crying and whining. Now I’m often asleep before they are – maybe they come in and check on me?
Ok you made me cry with this one too. Beautiful and perfect, Dana. Here’s to all of the goodnights and to remembering them and honoring them. I want to know the Shema. It sounds powerful and pure and maybe the words or the sounds or the tune doesn’t matter because maybe it’s similar to me singing my made up song to Tucker every night to the tune of Wonderful World, but I want to know it. Is that weird??
Sigh. Being a person goes by way too quickly. I miss the baby smell of Tucker’s head and wish I knew when it went away. I still sniff him, too.
I’ll sing the Shema for you next time we have lunch. Which may or may not encourage you to have lunch with me.
This was so, so beautiful. Every word. And right???? The smell of baby head is indescribable.
It really is. Why do they smell that way? And why do they stop?
So beautiful!!! I don’t have children yet, but I can feel your thoughts for when I do, so gorgeous ! xo
Thanks, Lindsay. And can I tell you that your site name makes me smile every time I see it. I love a woman who declares her awesomeness to the world. I get the double meaning, but still. I love it.
Oh wow, now I am truly crying my eyes out here and even though my girls are still on the younger side, I still can’t help, but try my best to take in putting them to bed each and every night, too here. I truly don’t want to forget a moment of it, because before I turn around they will be all grown up and this will be all but a memory.
So true, Janine. Treasure every goodnight – even the ones when you can’t get them to bed fast enough. On second thought, you don’t have to treasure those. Just make it through them.