Many moms the world over acknowledge the witching hour. The witching hour is the window of time every night (sometimes much longer than an hour) when things get off the rails. Like clockwork each night, you can count on an injury, a meltdown, and some extra chaos out of left field. It’s generally the time of day when no one is at their best.
My family’s daily low point happens during the bedtime teeth brushing routine. It’s all hands on deck, so my husband and I team up to tackle this final hurdle. We are all tired, and this necessary evil stands between us and the final stages of the bedtime routine. After teeth brushing come goodnight kisses, tucking tired little boys into bunk beds, and reading three library books before turning the lights out and the sound machine on.
But as any mom knows, no two kids are alike. And each child brings their own witching hour energy to the routine.
My oldest is on a race against time. He vigorously brushes for 32 seconds, doesn’t bother to rinse out the toothpaste, wipes his foamy toothpaste mouth on a seriously abused novelty hand towel, and exits with the grace of a buffoon. The countertops are left covered in puddles, and the mirror showcases his “best work.” And if that gives you the ick, just know that he pees with the same level of grace, and my bathroom floors (and walls) are the proof. We fight him to brush longer, aim better, and stay focused on the task at hand.
Alternately, my youngest has been known to extend the standard two-minute recommended teeth brushing into a solid 20-minute affair. He cannot be rushed. He brushes thoroughly, eats a significant amount of toothpaste, stops to sing, dance, reapply toothpaste, argues with anyone trying to hustle him along, tells jokes, and takes long drinks along the way. This is next-level witching hour nonsense.
At this point in the night, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I am eager to wrap up the never-ending routine, enjoy the bedtime stories, and sit down for three minutes. The management of the teeth brushing process is run by overstimulated parents on their last gasp of effort. We are also NOT at our best. The other night, I heard my own voice, like a dragon, growling into the face of a defiant 4-year-old, “Just BRUUUUUSHHHH YOUR TEEEEETH!!!” And let’s be honest, fully losing your cool to this degree never feels good or accomplishes a darn thing. He barely batted an eye.
At some point in the future, I won’t need to supervise every second of this routine. I often wax nostalgic about how quickly my children are growing and how I want to remember all the little moments along the way. But not this one. These witching hour memories can drift from my mind without fanfare or regret.
