It took Cavanaugh two hours to go to sleep tonight. I finally taught him to pray. Sometimes, deep breaths just aren’t enough.
There were all sorts of good reasons Cavanaugh was having trouble sleeping but it didn’t make me feel any less ready for him to give up the day and rest. Stories, songs, my hand stroking circles on his back, holding hands–nothing.
I know plenty of parents who would say, get up and get out. He needs to fall asleep by himself. And sometimes he does. I know he’s capable of it. But this night was wanting more Mama Time, partly because his dad missed another visit.
Partly because I insisted that we go to the gym so I could take a Bodyflow class. I promised it would give me more energy to play with him if I could just exercise. That it makes me nicer. This whole single parenting thing is a hard transition for both of us.
So, he went to the gym daycare–where he’s been before and liked it, though it has been months. He went in smoothly, without insisting that I stay and play. Surprisingly, they didn’t come get me so I was able to finish the whole class. Then I walked in and Cavanaugh was waiting right inside the half-door, right where I’d left him.
The attendants said he’d stood there for the entire 50 minutes I was in class. He wasn’t upset. Anytime they tried to engage him in play–drawing, cars, etc.–he said, “I’m just resting.”
On the way home, I asked why he didn’t want to play and said, “I was just resting.” I asked if he would want to go again and he said yes. Considering I took a journal in my purse to parties, I understand being an observer. When we got home, he asked, “Did the gym make you feel better Mama?”
“Yes! Thank you so much for going to the day care so I got a chance to take care of my body and help myself relax.”
We got home, ate dinner, played Bugdom on my iPhone, a game he found on the floor model when we waited so long at AT&T to get my own cell account. I never thought I would let my small child play video games. And sure, it’s full of butterflies that burst into flowers when you spring up to them, but it’s a video game. Apparently a pretty exciting one, because Cavanaugh was riled up.
Maybe it was the video game keeping him up. But it could have been the hard start to the day–one that happens too frequently around here–when I didn’t want to be awake because it took so long last night to fall asleep. Maybe it was my insistence on moving and watering plants that were smothering each other to death in the garden, though Cavanaugh just wanted me to let him sit on my lap all morning. Maybe it was a playdate with a buddy that was fun sometimes and rough others. Maybe it was his dad’s missed visit, or that he refused a chance for a bedtime call to Daddy. Maybe it was the gym and “resting” in day care. Whatever it was, we’d had a day and I wasn’t leaving that kid alone to put himself to sleep.
But I wasn’t prepared to stay up there much longer and keep the great calm feeling that I get from yoga. So I asked if he wanted to pray with me.
“What is praying?”
“Talking to God. Do you want me to show you?” I said we could do it anywhere but a lot of people like to do it like this. Then I demonstrated how we can get down on our knees, put our hands together and say “Thank you” to God at the end of the day. I still need to figure out how to explain the concept of God, or a still small voice, or a benevolent omniscient being.
Tonight though, I just asked, “What do want to say ‘thank you’ for?”
“The gym,” he answered, and crawled back into the bed.
Um, okay.
Do you pray with your kids, at bedtime or any other time? Did you pray as a child? What does any of that look like at your house?


this is just such a beautiful post both in content and writing. I have been a single mum since my son was 2. He’s now 14. I first taught him to do the guardian angels prayer…and then let him naturally evolve this time before sleep that we both took to pause, to feel grateful and to connect spiritually.
I asked him recently if he still prays and he replied:
“Nah, not really. I just kinda a talk to it (we don’t define god) whenever you know. Like before I go to sleep and that, and like when bad things happen to people like in Pakistan”. As mum, I felt all warm and fuzzy
Again, great post…cheers…Leesa
Oh that boy. That beautiful, beautiful boy.
I am no expert. But I think your dad blowing you off when you are a small child would keep you up at night. That f-r.
Tonight before bed, he said he would go back to the gym tomorrow but Daddy would be there this time. I hadn’t even thought about the fact that when we were still together, his dad would meet us on Mondays at the gym. I would drop Cavanaugh off and his dad would pick him up. Cavanaugh wasn’t just resting by the door, or observing. He was waiting for his dad to get there.
As usual, I feel profound gratitude for everyone who feels so protective of my son.
You’re such an awesome mama! He is one lucky kid! I feel for him. It’s hard to expect dad to show up and then nothing. As for prayers, I haven’t started that yet, in part because I need to sort out my beliefs. I do realize that the husband and I need to figure something out soon. Your posts always remind me of good things I can be doing for my family/myself!
No kids, but my parents used to pray with me when I was little. My father would memorize these really long and elaborate prayers that talked about sex and hoping that we would stay virgins until we were married, and I was 5 and didn’t understand anything, and would usually go to sleep before he finished, anyway. I vowed never to subject my kids to something like that… my mom made up simpler prayers, something like yours, that we could easily grasp. I think you’re doing great!
We say our “Thank you’s” and I like it as much as he does. Sometimes he says amazingly sweet insightful things for a five year old (like “Thank you God for all the love in the world even in the hearts of people who don’t act love”), but my favorite was, “Thank you God for my underwear and for my spit so I can spit in my hands and rub them back and forth.” I’m not even making this up; I couldn’t. Boys.
Last week, Cavanaugh told me, “I might want to go to a space station someday. We would have to build a rocket ship. Or we could ride a horse to the moon.” Underwear, spit, horses, space stations, we got it.