Eleni has never been what you’d call a good sleeper. Ever since her baby days, she’s tossed and turned throughout the night, spoken aloud to friends and strangers in her dreams, and hurled herself into my bed, complaining of terrible nightmares.
So when Eleni was invited to her first sleepover, some months ago, I wondered whether she’d be up to the challenge. She seemed concerned as she opened the sparkly invitation, and at first she balked at going. (“I’m just not comfortable,” she said in her matter-of-fact, seven-year-old way.) But if nothing else, Eleni loves a party. So as the date of the sleepover drew closer, Eleni decided that — her fears be darned — she’d be attending that all-night shindig after all.
On the afternoon of the party, I walked Eleni to her friend’s house, still doubtful that she’d get through the night without me.
But at 8 p.m., Eleni called to say that she was having the “best time” and that she’d see me in the morning. After a final “Bye, Mom! Love you!” (and an implied “I have better things to do now”), she hung up the phone, leaving me to wonder what I’d do with myself for the rest of the evening.
In the six-plus years since I’d adopted Eleni, I’d put her to bed nearly every night, and, as a single mother, I felt tied to a routine I both loved and found tedious. I was free, for the first time in ages, to go out to a movie, read a book, watch TV, or simply stare at the ceiling, answering to no one but myself. I should have been elated. But after 15 minutes passed, I began to feel sorry for myself, convinced that the rest of the world (including my seven-year-old daughter!) was out having fun without me.
Fortunately, I discovered America’s Next Top Model on TV, and found a strange sense of comfort in watching back-to-back reruns. At midnight, I crept into Eleni’s bed and slept on and off until daybreak. But amazingly, Eleni survived the night without me — in fact, she thrived. Perhaps it was because she snuggled with a roomful of girls the way she once did in China (or because these girls spent so much of the night talking), but Eleni told me the next day that she had not experienced any nightmares or sleep problems to speak of.
Since that first sleepover, Eleni has gone on several others. When the latest invitation arrived, Eleni opened it and cried, “Oh, this is the best day of my life!” For my part, however, I find it no easier to separate from Eleni or to believe that my daughter is beginning her long, steady trek toward independence. On the nights when Eleni’s away, I wander aimlessly around a bookstore, or lie on the couch, or stare at the TV, and always sleep in her bed. I am aware of how quiet our house is, how dull and simple my bedtime routine.
When I pick up Eleni the next day, she’s exhausted from lack of sleep, thrilled to be home, and also a little triumphant. She knows she’s been brave (as she puts it: “When Mommy leaves, I say to myself in my head, ‘I can do this. I’ll be able to stay all night!'”), and that gives her a new sense of freedom and pride. As for me, I had many years of freedom before Eleni came along, and I valued every one of them. At this point, though, I’m not ready to be alone again — not even a little bit.
