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05/12/2008: "Rituals"

Brat's blog entry from Friday put me in mind of my own patterns with Dessa. Brat writes about bedtime with her daughter, the earliest and easiest to ritualize of the daily routines - and the one with the best payoff, if done correctly.

But I'm thinking about our other patterns too, and wondering how many of them would really count as rituals. Dessa doesn't get a bath everyday yet, since she doesn't get that dirty and living in California I'm sensitive to wasting water. But when she does have a bath it follows a predictable pattern. Fill up the tub, add Mr. Bubbles as the water runs, put the baby in, give her the big boat toy she never plays with in any other circumstance (I like to maintain the mystery). I sit next to the tub on a small step stool and turn the bathroom radio to the classical station (before you call CPS on me, you should know it's one of those shower radios, made for bathrooms. Nobody's getting electrocuted on my watch). I pour warm water over her, wash her hair. Rinsing her off is fun, since she gasps like a fish when water runs over her face. The boat toy came with 3 small plastic cups which have varying holes in the bottom. Dessa loves for me to fill them up and let the water drain out in front of her so she can reach for the strings of liquid she can never quite hold onto. She chews on the plastic fishies, sinks the boat several times to the tune of Mommy relentlessly singing "Go Go Godzilla" and after I soap her up and rinse her off, she gets wrapped in her big girl bath towel and off we go to dress.

Meals follow a bit of a pattern too. I put Dess in her high chair, give her some finger foods, usually Cheerios, sometimes bits of chicken if we have some, or cut up fruit or veggies, occasionally the odd baked good like homemade banana bread. She stuffs the goodies in her mouth as I put together her meal. She loves to feed herself. When I pull the Cheerios box out of the cabinet she wriggles and shrieks with anticipation. She does her thing and then I do mine, spooning whatever's on today's menu mouthward. Then comes the dreaded washcloth, with which I rid my child of smeared... whatever it is... from chin, nose, cheeks, sticky hands and anyplace else untoward. This part she hates with a passion. It's as if I rinsed the washcloth with acid instead of warm water. Weird.

But it's bedtime that really is ritualized. Born a bit from necessity and embellished by me, it does seem to do the trick. Dessa's bedtime is 7 pm, occasionally a little earlier depending on how her naps went (in other words, how much of a pill she's being). By 7 o'clock, though, she's generally pretty tuckered out. Upstairs we go, after saying good night to Daddy, occasionally with a kiss, almost always with a wave of her hand.

Once upstairs, I close her door and we sit in the glider. These days she knows what's coming and, smiling, looks expectantly to our right, where her books are. She will only accept one - I know because I've tried to break the pattern and read others. Sometimes she'll allow me to read something different but then she insists upon "Elmo Loves You". I know the book by heart (which was good for a laugh the other day when I started to recite it to her. She looked shocked because she recognized the words but the book wasn't there). She happily turns the pages for me and at the end, when Elmo asks for a kiss, she obligingly gives the book a little peck. Then she wants to flip through the pages for a minute or two, which I let her do. Story finished, I set the book aside and we go to the window.

"Goodnight, shade. Stay closed until morning," I intone, turning to the wardrobe. "Goodnight, clothes. We'll pick something to wear tomorrow. Goodnight, books. We'll read you soon. Goodnight, stuffed animals. Watch over Dessa while she sleeps." Usually here I pause to pet the head of some random duckie or horsie, adding a deep-voiced, "We will!" Then it's "Goodnight, changing table. Time for bed now," because we're at the crib. I give Dess her blanket, and by this time she's rubbing her eyes obligingly. Down her head goes on my shoulder, she clutches the blanket, and I sing a slow soft "Twinkle, twinkle little star", the end of which generally acts as a signal for Dess to turn and start reaching for her crib. In she goes, with a few pats on the back and... I'm free to leave.

This ritual generally works like a charm. There are exceptional days, of course, when Dess is overtired, or not tired enough and she fusses more than usual. But right now it's fairly predicable and she seems to like it. I'd like to switch up the books from time to time but I can see the appeal of Elmo and someday she'll want something more advanced. Until then, I'm happy for these patterns, these things that ward off bad dreams in the night. I'm happy to be able to give them, down as I was for so many months, unable to put my baby to bed. I know these times for the fleeting things they are. Someday it'll be, "Could you leave the light on Mom? I want to finish this chapter" and she'll be providing her own entertainment.

Relentless reciting of "Elmo loves you" seems a small price to pay. After all, Elmo isn't the only one.