A BEDTIME RITUAL
image courtesy of photobucket.com
“Can we do Whooshings tonight Dad”? she asked. “Sure,”–“Where do you want to do em”? I replied. My youngest would usually pick our bed. Sometimes I’d warn her, “If you pick our bed they’re gonna be really BIG Whooshings”! “OK”! she’d say scared and excited.
The exact definition for Whooshings might not appear in the Webster’s dictionary. The exact meaning of the word Whooshing as defined in our house is this: To throw or be thrown, the act of tossing a person in or on a specific target or bed from a significant distance, securing a safe landing. The name was actually invented by chance.
I’m sure the game’s origin could be traced back to me tossing her sisters into swimming pools. I’d hold them like a cradle, their back resting on my curled left arm with the back of their upper legs in my curled right arm. I’d stand back from the bed and with each count of a number I’d swing her left toward the bed stopping and rocking back toward the right readying them for the next number.
It went something like this, a big swing to the left with a loud audible “ONE”! Back to the right then a big swing back to the left and another loud “TWO”! One last move hard and fast to the right shifting quickly back to the left with an even louder “THREE”!!! As my little one would sail through the air flying toward the bed I’d yell, “Whoosh”!!! Hence, her made-up title of “Whooshings.”
After the first one, she’d shout “AGAIN-DAD-AGAIN”!!! “One-Two-Three”!!! And it would start all again. After 5 or 6 times, I’d have to calm the Whooshing Monster and ready her for bed. That was one of our rituals, we had another bedtime ritual that our youngest opted for sometimes.
This ritual was titled, “The Wrong Bed,” of course named by our little game-name-giver. It started by chance, I’d pick her up in that same cradle and as I walked toward her room I’d stop and set her in the wrong bed. In the beginning, it was usually her sister’s beds.
I’d play the part of the sincere dad, “OK Gurmy Girl, there you go, sleep tight, I love you, OK then”–“Dad”! Was her next line in the ritual cutting me off. “Yeah Babe.” Was my line, her next line was improvised, it went something like this, “Dad, this isn’t my bed”! I’d say cleverly with shock in my voice, “What”?! -“Are you sure”? And onto more improvised dialogue.
It got to the point when I’d pick her up from the first spot I’d lay her on other things– that was the fun of the game for her, then of course to tell me it wasn’t her bed with a sweet smile…
My little one got put to bed on just about everything in the house over the years. The breakfast table, dining table, kitchen countertop, bath countertop, coffee tables, my desk, even a few pinball machines.
Whatever the bedtime ritual, it always wound up in her bed and a prayer, me usually first then her. It always ended with a good night, “I love you” and an “I love you too.”
Something we were talking about made my little one think of the old rituals last night. She asked me, “Remember Whooshings Dad”? I laughed and said, “Of course I do” — “Do you remember, “The Wrong Bed”? I replied. “She laughed and answered, ” Yeah” — “That was fun”!
A while later she announced she was going to shower, a little bit after that she came back in to say good night…
The days of Whooshings and The Wrong Bed are in the ever distancing past. I know from our older girls that our little one is right around the corner from being gone…
No more good nights or good mornings…
There were difficulties, I can’t say it was all perfect, but even in the discipline for everyone involved in different ways there was joy, in the end there is honor and the sweetest of memories.
Most of us with short memories can relate to the old adage, “You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.”
I can envision someday my grandkids and great grandkids asking their mothers, “Mommy, can we do Whooshings”?
My girls smiling at their pride and joy’s, sometimes with their eyes swelling with tears…
Remembering us…
They too will take them in their arms and form a gentle cradle as they begin to count, One!- Two!- Three!!!
They too will have to practice letting their babies go and trusting they have set them on course for a safe landing…
Wednesday, April 13, 2011 @ 6:23 pm
Interesting and wonderful (is it not) how the simple things in life become the memories we remember the most and they live closest to our heart. Bt
Wednesday, April 13, 2011 @ 9:08 pm
Words of wisdom my friend, sometimes the simple things felt like obligation and in the discipline we found gratification, we just didn’t know how sweet the gratification would be…
Thursday, April 14, 2011 @ 6:57 am
I do this with my nephew. It’s one of his favorite things, too. I have to be a lot more gentle because he’s only a year and a half old, but the kid freaks out and insists on doing it until we’re both out of breath!
Thursday, April 14, 2011 @ 7:05 am
You know that sounds like a genetical thing!!! A bloodline heritage maybe?
Thursday, April 14, 2011 @ 7:01 am
My dad used to have a nightly ritual when he was home where he would put my sister and I both in the same bed and he would hold his arms out. Then he would ask us, “left or right” and we would try to guess which arm would still be out once he fell. Sometimes it would be one or the other, sometimes both and sometimes none. (Of course, the older I got the more the none option appealed because it his arm would hurt me :). ) But it was something that carried into our teenage years where every so often he would jump up on the bed and say, “which arm?”. I have done this a few time with my son but playing this game on a twin bed is a lot harder than our double growing up. It’s a sweet memory I will always carry, so I know your girls will always carry it with them as well.
Thursday, April 14, 2011 @ 7:03 am
Thanks April, what a great memory for you and your sister. In the end it is the little things that add up to be the most…
Thursday, April 14, 2011 @ 10:19 am
Floyd, it’s always the stories about your children that make my eyes swell with tears. You have such tenderness and fun with them, I bet they know they have the best Dad ever!
Thursday, April 14, 2011 @ 10:33 am
Thanks Holly, I’m not the best dad ever, I try to do the right things, but in the end there’s always something more we could have done… Sometimes I’ve been to hard, sometimes I haven’t been hard enough. I guess that’s normal for all of us, hindsight of course is 20/20. I’m just like you, we do our best in love and in the end that’s the most important thing, the love they see and feel… It’s nice to hear from you.
Thursday, April 14, 2011 @ 2:22 pm
I didn’t say you WERE the best Dad ever, just that they thought you were 😉 (At least I’m betting)
Thursday, April 14, 2011 @ 5:19 pm
I think that answer from them might depend on the day…
Thursday, April 14, 2011 @ 11:35 am
When my oldest was just big enough to walk and run we would play fight. It would start by him hitting me and then running away and I would ignore it for the first few times and then I would look at him and say quite loudly “YOU WANNA PIECE OF ME” and he would put his hands up and stand in front of me ready to brawl and we would go at it till one of us got hurt which at first it was him but now with three boys its usually me who ends up hurt. Now they will come up to me and ask dad you wanna play “piece of me”! Its fun to see them play it amongst themselves as well. What a blessing it is to have kids. I do hope they will carry some of the things that we do with them into their own families.
Thanks again for a great post!
Thursday, April 14, 2011 @ 11:46 am
I love that picture of you and your kids, I can almost see it. You are a good dad and I know first hand a man of honor, that is the most important thing you’ll pass on to them. The fun rituals is just pudding on the cake… Thanks Roger for sharing, I love to hear other parents rituals.
Thursday, April 14, 2011 @ 5:43 pm
Memories…one of the joys of having a family! You know, I think it’s the little things that are most precious to me; I have started writing them down because I want them to know what a gift those little things have been.
A beautiful description of how big “a little thing” can be. Precious post!
P.S. It’s so much easier to let go when YOU have chosen the landing strip…
Thursday, April 14, 2011 @ 6:39 pm
Thanks Pat! That’s exactly what I wanted the last line too mean, I thought about going into detail, but thought it might have lost rhythm. I was trying to use the analogy of the throwing as a child into the being thrown into the world. I’m not sure who else caught it, but I knew I could count on you! Yes, the little things are really what matter, I just got off the phone with my mom talking about this very thing. I bet I get a call after she reads this… Looking forward to that “little” thing…
Monday, April 18, 2011 @ 10:52 am
Very sweet, Floyd. I have to admit, bedtime is very chaotic in our household. Perhaps I should try to play a little more as you did. This parenting thing–I definitely learn as I go….
Monday, April 18, 2011 @ 2:58 pm
Thanks Jennifer, I think it’s definitely easier for dads than moms, being with them all day is something men aren’t near strong enough for… I’m not even kidding…