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.