It’s three in the morning.  You would think that with a king sized bed and a crib side car I would have plenty of room to sleep.  Instead I have my toddler burrowing into me on one side, and the baby cuddled into my arm on the other.  I set the baby back in the crib area, and scooch the toddler over to the middle of the bed so I can get comfortable.  A few minutes later, both have started to wiggle back towards me.  My husband is lightly snoring on his side of the bed.  Blissfully unaware of the nightly custom.

Sometimes, I can’t wait to have my own space to sleep again, or roll over without waking the children.  I can’t wait to sleep all the way through the night.  With co-sleeping it seems like getting to these goals are two steps forward, one step back.  I hear other moms talk about how early their kids slept through the night; how they never shared the bed with their kids, and I wonder if I’m doing the right thing.

Then, I smell my baby’s head as he snuggles in closer to me; my toddler contentedly says “mama and dada” as he climbs into bed with us and settles in.  I remind myself that in a few years, when I ask them to come cuddle with me, they’ll make faces.  They’ll probably say no.  I remind myself that I’ll have years and years to sleep alone, and only this short time to cuddle with my boys.

So I wake up during the night, and I wake up early in the morning.  We play games in bed until Mr. Bug asks for his breakfast.  And while sometimes I wish they’d grow up and let me sleep, most of the time I wish they’d never grow up.


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