The Best of Times...The Worst Of Times

Every night, in this house, after dinner and before bedtime, we have what is not-so-affectionately referred to as "hell hour". Just ask my sister-in-law, who called tonight during such hour. We didn't get to speak much more than a sentence to each other before having to hang up. Who can hear someone on the other end of the phone with Battle of the Baby Dolls going on in the background, anyway?

The girls are cranky, tired, and loud. They yell and scream. They bicker and fuss. And, 9 times out of 10, one or both of them ends up getting hit or kicked or even (on the rare occasion) bitten.

Sometimes it can look like pre-school WWF around here. Exhausting.

And, then...bedtime.

We read a story every night. It is quite possibly my very favorite part of the day. Both girls climb into one bed, we pick out a book, and then we experience the calm after the storm.

Tonight it's a Beauty and the Beast bedtime story. We click, click, click our tongue when someone knocks on a door and we all take turns HUCKKKK-SHOOOO'ing at the part where the Beast is snoring. And, I laugh out loud, because it really is the best kind of silly fun.

We kiss and hug and tuck in. Repeat. And, repeat. And, repeat again. (Rylee is still adjusting to not being "behind bars" at night.)

"Mommy, Rylee is out of her bed again!!"

"Mommy, Rylee is in the toy box!!"

"Mommy, Rylee took Mammy and won't give him back!!"
"Mommy...."

I sigh, too loudly, and march, also too loudly, into the bedroom to (most likely) yell something like, "NOT ONE MORE WORD!!!"

But, Sarah says sweetly, "Will you rub my back and sing me a lullabye?" She has requested a back rub and lullabye every night for the past week. I should have seen it coming. So, I kneel beside her bed, and take a few deep breaths to calm myself. She lifts her purple monkey night gown and I start to rub her back. I ask what lullabye she wants me to sing and she says, "Jesus loves me". Yes, Lord, I hear You.

So, I sing. And, I insert Sarah's name in all the appropriate places. She loves that.

She says, "Tomorrow night we can sing "He's got the Whole World in His Hands." Loud and clear, Father, Loud and Clear.

Then, Sarah drifts off to sleep.

5 minutes later...

"Mama."

Gently I say, "Rylee, it's time for night-night."

Rylee rolls over in her bed with her back facing me and tugs at her Tinkerbell PJ shirt.

"Wuub Bock, Mama. Shing."

I kiss that sweet, dimpled face. Then, I rub that soft, pudgy little back, and sing "Hush Little Baby." When the song ended, I gave more kisses and hugs.

Rylee then cupped my face in her precious little hands and said, "Go, Mama." with a smile, and a minute later she was sleeping.

Right there, feeling my most frazzled, my spirit was soothed by singing of Jesus' love for us, counting my blessings (2 of them lying in their beds with my hand on their backs), and even hearing that still, small voice whisper that it is all in His hands.

It was my own personal "Heaven Hour".

p.s. These pictures were taken a few nights ago when the evening had been a smidge more pleasant. I'm not crazy (or talented) enough to be snapping pictures in the middle of total chaos.