This text first appeared here on brigitte.de.
I love my children’s friends. Really. There is Maja, a cheerful six-year-old who I would almost call my own little friend. And Mathilda, who melts me with her smart eyes and sweet charm. Also Nico, the cute brat from the house next door, and Ida, Sophie, Lasse and Max. They are really great children. Really without exception.
Until at some point they stand in front of me and ask the question that I’m not only afraid of in the dark: “May I sleep with you?” This question brings beads of sweat to my forehead. Because only one answer would be honest, namely: Anything better than that. And only a completely different answer seems acceptable, namely: Of course!
“Of course” is not an option in my eyes. That’s because after 8 p.m. I’m reluctant to put my motherhood into practice and don’t see the need to increase the number of my children at exactly that point. Let’s be honest: Has anything really nice ever happened to you with your children after 8 p.m.? I rarely. Most of the time, my late-night engagements are limited to drink delivery, monster-hunting (while the thrilling crime scene ending is playing downstairs), pee-linen swaps, desperate searches for fever juice, fending off cross-footed feet, and defending my bed covers.
With three kids, you can be damn sure there will be one of these chores every night. Sometimes everyone. You’re not in there. So why the hell would I want to have more kids at night? That certainly doesn’t make the night’s rest any better!
And then the sleeping times of other children. Mine are late risers. No matter what time they go to bed, they snooze their eleven hours and everything is fine. Not so our dear little friend Maja. She wakes up at half past five and then wants to be entertained. I’ll put it this way: I guess there’s a reason the universe didn’t put mayas in our nest. “Not species-appropriate attitude” comes to mind as a keyword.
And by that I don’t mean Maja, but me and my husband. Fate would not have burdened us with a stork delivery like Maja. Never. If only in the interest of the common good. Because we need our sleep. If we don’t get that, we’ll become zombies. And that’s really not nice.
After countless attempts to mutate into the cosmopolitan, inviting mother I always wanted to be, I gave up. We no longer have overnight guests. At least not little ones without parents. Raven mother or not. The crazy thing about parenting is that despite having kids, you’re still the same or the same. Someone who, like me, maybe just needs a lot of sleep. Or someone who likes to party. Maybe someone who doesn’t enjoy reading to them. For my part, I’ve decided that’s ok. What if my children later blame me? Let them!
Then I think of all the beds made, all nights awake, monster hunts and drinks delivery services and I know to myself: I gave everything and I was happy to do so. And you should only give more than what you like to give when it is about something that is really, really important. In my opinion, overnight guests with children do not belong in this category. And I’m sure my children will still be happy. If only because her parents slept enough.
