Take the "me" out of Bedtime!

Do you know where I am right now? I don’t want to tell you. I’m at a bar. It’s 6 30pm and I finished my corporate acting gig at 6, and instead of going home, I came here to a bar. And I’m drinking a beer. And I ordered a hamburger. Rare.
This is not like me. Listen, it’s not like the kids are home alone. Dave had to go to work for 5pm so we got the fabulous, amazing 25 year old babysitter to come for 4:30. And if I got home at 6 30, that would barely be worth her while. I want her to make a bit of money, so I figured I’d come here and write and get some me time. Okay, there’s a bigger reason. I want Maryjoy to put the kids to bed.
It takes soooooo long for me to put the kids to bed. Dave can do it in 30 minutes or less. A babysitter? They take one look at her and put themselves to bed. Me? It’s like a crime that they should be forced to sleep at all. It’s like I’m asking them to go to jail. Without a phone call. I’d like to take the "time" out of bedtime. And, actually, take the "me" out of it, too. 'Bedtime boys, say goodnight to me… me who is going downstairs to watch 30 Rock, finish the dishes (okay, we don’t have a dishwasher… yet.. what?!) and get at least two hours of doing whatever the hell I want and need to do'. But no. Bedtime with me and the boys starts at 7pm and ends somewhere between 10 and 10:30pm when they have finally given in and fallen asleep after about 2 hours of manipulating me from the bottom bunk to the top bunk to sleep beside one or the other.
I know I am an enabler. I was the one who had them in the bed when they were babies, respectively. And I am still the enabler, because I will lay down with Jake, then Nathan, then Jake, then Nathan, up and down the bunk like a servant. If they were my employers, I'd quit. Which I felt like I did tonight. I may be in a bar, but don’t think my Catholic guilt isn’t killing me. I might need another beer to keep me from going home before they have fallen asleep. Go Maryjoy!