cur·few  [kur-fyoo] nounAn order establishing a specific time in the evening after which certain regulations apply.

If you’re a regular reader of this blog, you won’t be surprised to hear that sleep and sanity issues have reached a crisis point recently. No matter what time we put the kids to bed, they’re still forming an orderly queue to come downstairs and pester us as late as ten o’clock. It’s draining because it means wifey and I aren’t spending any time together at all, quality or otherwise, without a child hanging off us.

It begins at bedtime which the children have now managed to stretch into an hour or so marathon. I run the bath, then scour the house looking for a child to dunk therein and then drag one kicking and screaming to the bath. I then have a fight to get them out of the bath however many minutes later. That child then disappears whilst I repeat the exercise until they’re all vaguely clean. I then have to repeat the exercise for teeth cleaning and do a final round up for story time. Then we have a huge fight over who sits next to me in bed for a story, often culminating in at least one child sobbing for an indeterminate period of time. Then I read the story and nobody really listens anyway.

When I put Ned in bed I tell him very sternly that I will shut his door if he comes out of his room. He nods seriously and snuggles down. I stand outside his room for about 12 seconds and then scoop him up and put him back in his bed as he tries to sneak out. The other two get tucked in and I usually get a complaint from the boy after about 2 minutes that he’s tried to get to sleep but just can’t. Fifi doesn’t like to feel left out so she scours the room for a spider the size of a pinhead to get over excited about.

Finally I manage to escape down the stair, only to find Ned waiting for me in the sitting room- he’s somehow managed to sneak past me while I’m dealing with the other two- so I drag him kicking and screaming upstairs and shut him in his room, pretending I can’t hear the banging on the door.

Over the course of the next two hours, visitations will frequently occur, some of which are as follows:

  • I’ve tried getting to sleep but I just can’t
  • What are we doing tomorrow?
  • Can I just tell you something? [long pause] I can’t remember what it is- sorry
  • When is it the weekend?
  • Could a witch get into my room?
  • Could you turn the television down?
  • I couldn’t hear any noise downstairs and thought you had gone out.
  • [the other sibling] is laughing at me
  • Why is [the other sibling] reading a book?
  • I’ve got a sore bottom/finger/leg/foot/ear/nose/head/any other body part
So I cracked after having to move a trunk to get to a specific book at 9pm last night. I said we’re having a curfew and that a curfew was an imposed restriction of movement after a given time that would be enforced by arrest and punishment. I wasn’t really up for the discussion over the practicalities, not least how I didn’t have handcuffs so it wouldn’t be possible to implement an actual arrest.
So there you have it, we are now under a night time curfew in the Cool household. 
Wish me luck…