Get the Heck Out of My Bed!

Hello again. I would like a break from politics. You too? Sweet. Let's start with something hilarious.



Oh, how I identify with this totally wacked-out woman. Especially with the breast pumping. Video courtesy of MamaNatural.com - one of my new favorites. The blog is a great hub for all things crunchy and is the home of this and many very funny videos. But we all know that I'm only semi-crunchy. I vaccinate my kids, buy genetically modified seedless grapes, let them watch educational television, and yes - I even have been known to feed them the occasional happy meal.

And here's another one. Brace yourself.

I. Hate. Co-sleeping.

I'm not talking about newborns. No need to open up that worm-filled can. Rest assured, we have a side-car bassinet that we used for the first 6 weeks of life for both our kids, and after that they were moved to cribs. In this case, maybe co-sleeping is a bad term. I'm talking about kids that are much older. At least a year, or in this case 2.5 years.

It's honestly a closeness thing. I've spent most of my adult life a little averted to being near others. After only a few years together, the cuddle phase was all but eradicated from my marriage with the introduction of a two mattresses in one bed frame (God bless the Germans - they have this one right). There are long-running jokes among my friends about how much I hate to hug. Elevators, crowded church pews, and public transportation have been known to bring on full-fledged panic attacks. And not out of something logical like fear of infectious disease or pick pockets. I just can't stand the NEARNESS of it all.

You think this is precious.
I think it's a violation of human rights.

And then I became a mother. So much of that has changed - I love to hold my babies. Everything about being close to others has become easier, even enjoyable at times. My girls crawl, kick, and drop 'bows on me daily, and half the time it makes me smile. But sleep is different. Sleep is still sacred. I have fantasies about sleeping alone, on a tempur-pedic in the middle of a field of lavender - miles from the nearest child. Unfortunately, the only thing that's really distant is the hope of a night without a kid in my bed. Since my youngest (now 6 months) was born, her older sister has returned to our bed every night. Sometimes it's at 4 am, sometimes it's before we even get there. She's always been a terrible sleeper (night terrors, hallucinogenic dreaming, you name it) so I don't turn her away. And there are times when I'll wake up at night and look over at her peaceful face and think, this isn't so bad.

But most of the time, I feel very differently. Look, kiddo. From the moment you took up residency in my uterus, I've been loosing ground. First I lost my figure, then my boobs became someone else's snack pak. You take my food AS I'm trying to eat it, you force me to watch Nick Jr all day, and now you want to kick me out of my bed? C'mon man. You're adorable, but I didn't buy you those Dora sheets to look good on an empty toddler bed.

Of course I exaggerate. But I think you get the picture. Just in case you don't, this says it all.

Despite many long sleepless hours mulling it over, I have no idea what to do about this problem. The Great Bed Invasion of 2010 is stretching into 2012, and seems to have no end. My husband says "it's not like she's going to be sleeping with us when she's 12," but honestly, I'm not convinced. I am terrified that I will wake up a decade from now, and find that I am on the floor and my bed is full of a knot of covers and progeny. Like 8 of them. I'm nauseated just thinking about it. 

But the truth is, one day, my sweet daughter will roll her eyes when I so much as brush her hair out of her face, and I'll long for these days. I will miss the hugs, the cuddles, the groggy wake up to what is quickly becoming one of the best and worst sentences: "Mommy, is it get up time?" She's a precious one, that little bed hog of mine. And she's in my bed because she loves me, feels safe with me, and is calmed by my presence. She's there because I'm her mom. Oh - I guess it's not so bad after all.

Just don't ask me at 3 am.

Photo credits: Ed Wolstenholme and unknown.