Bedtime Shmedtime.

I hate bedtime.

There. I said it.

The shenanigans, the whining, the “one more make-up story”, the “rub my back until I fall asleep.”

No!

It’s so much more pleasant putting the 18-month old to bed.  A song, a story, bottle of milk, night night kisses and done. Door closes and that’s that.

The other two?  Oy, it’s an hour-long ordeal.  And it’s March Break and I can’t use “It’s a school night” on them.

Someone help me, please!

I’d rather stab a fork in my eye than try to put those two kids to bed.

Does that make me a bad mommy?  I certainly feel like it sometimes.