Sing me a song

I have a confession.

I've tried to keep it secret from most of you for months. My cheeks have burned in embarrassment. My head hung low in shame.

But there's no point keeping it from you any longer. It'd just be a matter of time before you found out anyway.

I sing ridiculous songs to the boys at every single naptime and bedtime.

Not because I choose them. Not because I want to. Because if I don't, the little terrors will throw a hissy fit and refuse to go to sleep. Two ridiculous songs for Ben, two ridiculous songs for Jake, and off I go, tail tucked between my legs. It's the price I pay for them drifting to sleep soon after (that's the plan, anyway).

What's so bad about this, you say? Sarah, don't be so dramatic, you're thinking. Singing bedtime stories to your children is a beautiful thing. A peaceful, loving time they'll remember for the rest of their lives.

Except that at our house, that's not the way it works.

First of all, the song choices. Here are their current top four favorites:

1. The Poo-Poo song (a song I regrettably made up in total desperation to get the boys to poop on the potty. It's lyrics revolve around "Poo-poo, poo-poo come out of my bottom")
2. Take Me Out to the Ballgame (I REALLY don't care if I ever come back)
3. A song about a rabbit needing to come inside someone's house before the hunters "shoot him dead"
4. The Horsey Song, aka Camptown Races (doo-da, doo-da)

Now, admittedly, someone had to teach them these songs, and that someone was me. I don't know what I was thinking. Perhaps, that they wouldn't choose them for bedtime songs. And truth be told, they do request some other more traditional, soothing songs. But these are their top hits, for sure.

But I'm still not painting you a clear enough picture of what the bedtime singing is like. With few exceptions, during my singing (which is made even more pathetic by the fact that I cannot carry a tune), the boys are flopping around on their beds, snickering, talking loudly, hanging off their beds, and slinging their loveys around. Hello, rude? I try to keep order, but shouting out "Jacob, STOP THAT!" and "Ben, I will spank your bottom if you do that one more time" mid-verse during Jesus Love Me kind of ruins the moment.

Here's another favorite humbling strategy of theirs: refusing to pick a song or picking out songs that don't exist, such as "The Pillow Song" or "The Ceiling Song" or whatever madness strikes their fancy. Ben one time pointed to one of the railing pieces on his headboard and requested to sing "that one." As if the piece of wood was a song. Now here, dear reader, is where a real pushover could get into quite a mess. Take for instance.... my dad (sorry, Dad). Some time back, the boys convinced my dad to sing a song about candy canes (this was quite possibly the same ill-fated night they were able to coerce him to change their PJ outfits three times). Except there is no such song. But that didn't really matter, because poor Boppaw caved and made up a song. About candy canes. And at the next bedtime, I had not a clue what the "Cane Song" was. (Dad, if you're reading, perhaps you could post those snappy lyrics here?)

And then there's the most infuriating tactic they have in their bag of tricks, which involves me being forced to pick out a song for them, starting into the song and then being interrupted by screams of "No! I want to pick the song out!" and then the child picking out the very song I was just singing and having to start the song over again. When this happens, I literally have to hold onto the bed to keep my hands from strangling them.

Why do I put up with this? Why not just shut the door and say goodnight? I ask myself the same things nearly every time. And although part of it is just me trying to keep the peace because I simply don't have the energy to wean them off the routine, part of it is also me knowing that in a short time, they won't want me in their room at all. I won't be cool enough to sing any songs. And I'll be begging them to let me tuck them in. So I deal with the nonsense, keep the singing as part of our routine, and watch them sigh with satisfaction once they've had their two songs each. And then I close the door and run down the hallway with my head ducked to avoid having to face my husband, who has heard every bit of it next door in his office.