It’s 8:30 p.m.

I go into C.’s room first. He’s been reading for the last half-hour, but since he tends to rise at 6:00 in the morning, it’s time for his lights to go off and for him to head for dream-land. But before I kiss him on the cheek and tuck his covers around him, I have one thing to say:

“Take your socks off.”

He sighs heavily, but complies with my demand request.

C. likes to have his feet covered. It’s one of his “things.” And I suppose it’s my fault. I grew up in a house where we pretty much kept our shoes on at all times, and I never even considered running around outside barefoot, unless there was either a sprinkler or kiddy pool involved. Even then, my sandals or flip-flops remained close at hand. So I naturally have raised C. in shoes most of the time. And that habit became something that he has decided to stick to. Bare feet = yucky to him. That’s fine, usually. But in the summertime, at night, in bed, I have to insist upon bare feet. Otherwise, he overheats, gets sweaty and before long, his bedroom smells like (not surprisingly) a dirty sock. My demands are really for the best.

Socks now relegated to the hamper, C. climbs under his sheet, kisses me goodnight, shares a final story or thought, and closes his eyes. I close the door behind me and head across the hall.

L.’s been asleep for an hour or so and he’s softly snoring as he clutches his blue blankey. I have a mission in his room, too — the opposite mission, in fact. Sometime between when I kissed him goodnight and he drifted off to sleep, he removed his socks. Being a typical one-year-old, he loves to remove his socks at every opportunity, presumably to admire his 10 adorable toes. However, since he sleeps with no covers and his room gets cool during the night, I gently, quietly slip his light-weight socks back on those pudgy little feet. He stirs briefly, takes a deep breath, rubs his eye with a fist, and snuggles back to blanket-cuddling.

(I know what you’re thinking — by putting socks on him while he sleeps, I’m creating another child who refuses to have bare feet. But rest assured, he goes barefoot all day long. I promise.)

Two different kids, two different needs at bedtime. C. needs to step out of his comfort zone a little (socks off) and L. needs a little extra warmth (socks on). And I try to do what’s best for each of them.

Socks are the easy part. There are so many other areas where the decisions aren’t quite so simple. Which method of discipline would be best for this child? What challenge does that child need to be encouraged to face and overcome? Do I mete out tough consequences or show mercy in this particular situation?

So often in parenting, I feel like I’m winging it. I take the information and experience I have, and together with Chad, do what we think is best at the moment. Sometimes we’re right, and sometimes we’re wrong. But one thing doesn’t change — at the end of the day, we’re always seeking to do what’s best for each child, to meet their needs in the best possible way.

I had this week all planned out. It was going to be delightfully relaxing. C. is attending VBS this week with a friend of his and I was going to take full advantage of L.’s morning naps (which I have a feeling will not be around for much longer) to rest, relax, leisurely read blogs, write some scintillating blog posts of my own, and generally chill out.

But alas, it was not to be.

L. woke up Sunday morning with a fever that soon revealed itself to be the harbinger of a head cold.

Now here’s the thing. I’ve heard of children — I even know a couple of them — who get things that can be labeled “just a cold.” But my kids? Until they are 2 or 3, those “just a cold” things are actually two solid weeks of misery. Those other kids sleep more because they’re sick. Mine sleep less because they can’t breathe. The other kids sniffle a little and go on their way. Mine require constant holding and frequent relaxing car rides. Others quietly play in the corner, a little calmer because they’re feeling a tad under the weather. Mine engage in much crying and whining. I certainly don’t fault them for that (I hate that yucky head cold feeling as much as the next person), but it does wear on one after a while. Other kids feel all better in 3 or 4 days. Mine suffer for a good 12-14, after which an ear infection or sinus infection often sets in.

Sunday and Monday night provided me with a grand total of 7.5 hours of sleep. Yes, I mean combined. And then last night, I must have passed out, because I slept a good 7.5 hours in only one night — how wonderful! I have no idea if L. was up during the night or not, poor kid. Chad was out of town (which meant I had the bed to myself) and I collapsed around 9:00, and didn’t awaken until 4:30, when I heard a little cough coming over the baby monitor. I remained still and held my breath, hoping he’d go back to sleep. He did, and even woke smiling an hour and a half later. Granted, that smiling attitude only lasted for about 20 minutes, but hey, I’m glad for the little things.

And so, because I am feeling so refreshed this morning, after some actual sleep last night, I’m taking advantage of this nap time to cruise a few blogs, post these rambling thoughts of mine, and enjoy sipping coffee from my Eeyore mug. I know full well that this naptime will only last about 20 minutes, as all of them have this week. And 20 minutes is really only long enough to give L. enough energy to play for about 10 minutes before needing Mommy again.

But that’s okay. I know that in another year or so, he’ll catch “just a cold,” sniffle a little, and be on his way. So I can give a few extra snuggles this week, and the next one too. We can sit on the couch together and watch Noggin. I can live on a little less sleep.

I better run. I have about 8 minutes left to check out some blogs!