Classes at my synagogue are scheduled for 8 p.m. because they want to encourage people to attend the evening minyan. Minyan is held at my synagogue twice a day (morning and night), which is important if you’re saying Mourner’s Kaddish, because you need a minyan to do so, but sometimes rallying ten people can be a challenge, hence starting classes after minyan.
Minyan’s not so bad in the winter, when it’s simply the evening service. But this time of year, because it’s daylight so late, we suffer through both the afternoon and evening service. So before each class I have this dilemma: Do I go to minyan? Or stay home and help put the kids to bed? Needless to say, I’ve been a very good Jew lately.
Bedtime has gotten intolerable. Doodles goes to bed as easily as he ever has, but the Pie is just digging her heels in and making life miserable for us. Last night, I left the house at 7:15 for minyan. I know that Adam put the kids to bed at 7:30. I got home from my class at 9:15. And before I even had the door unlocked, I could hear the screaming.
It’s this vicious cycle–she doesn’t want to go to bed, she’s overtired the next day making her more temper tantrum-y and unpleasant to be around, she’s so overtired she can’t go to sleep well… I’ve tried increasing naps. I’ve tried decreasing naps. We’ve tried putting her to bed earlier. We’ve tried putting her to bed later. Doesn’t seem to matter: We’re guaranteed about an hour to two hours worth of screaming (thank goodness Doodles, who shares a room with her, can sleep through it all).
She gets so worked up that she can’t articulate what she wants. Sometimes it can be solved as easily as a different train from the train table next to her bed. But sometimes–like last night–it’s a guessing game. Do you need a cuddle? Do you need a train? Do you need socks? What do you need?!? And there is no letting her scream it out because it seriously simply won’t end.
I have another class tonight. Oh, I’m sorry, Adam. I’ve got to go early. They really need me for minyan….
I had to read minyan four times before I realized it wasn’t minivan.
Couldn’t figure out why the church wanted you in a minivan, either.