MOTHER TUCKERS

We’ve always thought that bedtime routines were of the utmost importance; taking that extra few minutes at the end of the day to spend time with each child. When they were really little there were more specific rituals. I remember with my youngest daughter, Azlen, she always required either the butterfly song or the duckie song; both of which are backward counting songs. She would giggle and be so absolutely enthralled in the song of the butterflies flying away so happy one by one. If I ventured into a new song or sang one of her favorites in a rush or skipped a verse in an attempt to speed up the tucking process, it would only lead to a few extra moments spent smoothing over her obvious disgruntlement when she’d correct me, “dat’s not da way it does, Mommy!” I’d get it right and then tuck her down each side while gently saying, “Snug as a bug in a rug my love.” We’d each say a prayer thanking God for each one of our family members and all the baby dolls and especially for Jesus and I’d ask a prayer of protection over my little Lion Heart, Azlen, praying secretly also for the little boy somewhere else in the world that just might be her husband someday. We’d end with some butterfly kisses, eskimo kisses, cheek kisses, ear kisses, and every other silly inventive kiss she could think of. The night light would be shining and a sweet song about Jesus would be swirling into the room as I would go to the door. I’d hear her little voice, “Don’t let the bed bugs bite, Mommy.” And I’d turn to my baby and say the final farewell, “Don’t bite the bedbugs, Azlen!” I’d hear her giggle as I moved on to the next child.

As a singer I was always ready to sing each child an amazing bed time lullaby. Sometimes though, as in the case of Koey, our first born, my attempts to soothe her with a melody brought her great misery. I would often sing her Amazing Grace as I tucked her in at night. I remember the time when she was around two as we were traveling that my efforts at night backfired on me. She was especially fussy and we knew that it was because she was tired. So, I began singing Amazing Grace to her. She instantly broke into a horrendous scream, obviously maddened that I had dared to try and put her to sleep. From that moment on, I was not allowed to sing Amazing Grace to her. She was determined to stay awake and not miss a thing. We thought it to be rather comical at the time and occasionally would begin singing Amazing Grace out of the blue just to get that little fuss. (Bad parents) Of course now that she is older, it is a song very dear to her heart.

As our kid’s began getting older the rituals began getting shorter and more concise. When our oldest was around 10 we committed to carry on the tucking ritual of praying with our children as long as they were under our roof. So, as their bedtimes began to change and their dependency on the tucking ritual began to lighten up, we would seek them out still and be sure that we came together before God to close each day.

During Spring Break one year was when I realized that all these tucking rituals I had performed year after year had been embedded into them so deeply that I had produced in my children what I call “Mother Tuckers.” When the kid’s had extended days of not being in school we would let them stay up until both of us would go to bed. Being more of a morning person, I would hit that 9 o’clock p.m. mark and be a zombie. So, I’d declare I was going to bed. I’d kiss each of them on the couch and go off to bed. Within five minutes of climbing into bed they’d all come tumbling into my room, climb up on the bed or kneel beside me. They were there to tuck me in. I would ask for a song or a story and they would all sing together, sometimes beautifully, sometimes in a dissonant chorus of chaos. They’d each pray for me and I’d pray for them and we’d hug and we’d kiss and as they’d leave the room they’d be sure to warn me not to bite the bedbugs.

One week I had gone to bed before them several nights in a row and knew that they would be coming to tuck me in. So, I put my body pillow under the covers and used a balloon under the covers to look like my head then quickly turned off the lights and hid in the closet. As they came in to tuck me that night, I barrelled out of the closet yelling in a husky voice, “What do you think you’re doin’, you Mother Tuckers?” They all squealed with delight as we rolled into laughter. My husband and I busted into laughter to the point of tears at my play on words mostly because the kids didn’t have a clue, which was a relief and a testament to our efforts also to keep their ears innocent.

All those years of tucking my children into bed were not wasted. Those were moments spent teaching them that our times of intimacy together are special and sacred. They were learning that at the end of the day after all the chaos and busyness there was a mother and a father who would take time to show them their love and a heavenly Father who would do the same. But, it was when they began tucking me in that I knew they were also learning that they too had love to show to their heavenly Father. They were my Mother Tuckin’ kids, and I was one happy Momma!