Never say never. For real.
And if you do say never, wait for it to bite you in the ass.
Why? Because karma is a bitch.
I should have known better.
I used to view co-sleeping as the worst. I am a woman that likes my sleep. I need a solid eight hours to function in the morning and sleeping with a tiny human in the bed is not relaxing.
I would say that up until about six months ago, I was anti-co-sleeping. Okay, I was extremely anti-co-sleeping.
It was uncomfortable, crowded and overall miserable to me. Kid feet in my face, flipping and flopping, and attempting to tug an inch of bedspread from my oldest minion wasn’t my idea of good sleep. It felt like my four-year old morphed into an octopus at bedtime. An octopus that drank a Red Bull. Or four.
I even wrote a blog post about my dislike for co-sleeping. About how it just wasn’t for my family.
And then God laughed at my plans.
And that is why I am writing this now.
One night, about six months ago, my four year old ran into the bedroom screaming for the third time that night because he had a bad dream. I was too tired to put him back to bed and my husband just mumbled something and rolled over.
In a haze of sleeplessness and knowing my alarm was going off in three hours, I told Henry to get in bed with me, my husband, and our 75-pound black lab. He snuggled into his comfy spot and literally slept all night long.
I was astounded, actually shocked, when I woke up. He looked like a tiny little angel. He was sleeping like a pencil, taking up the smallest amount of room possible. And I felt refreshed. I snuck out of bed, covered him up, and went downstairs to start my day.
I thought about how co-sleeping wasn’t all that bed as I drank my coffee in silence.
Then, it happened again the next night. And the next. And then the one after that.
By that point, I didn’t even care. I knew that if I let my four year-old into the bed, he would actually sleep, instead of waking up me and my husband once an hour every six hours.
That is when the lightbulb over my head finally appeared, and I realized that parents co-sleep for survival. So they can make it through the night. So they aren’t continually getting out of bed for mostly ridiculous reasons. Like, no kid, I am not getting out of bed so you can have a piece of cheese at 3 am.
So that is how it all began. We always put Henry to sleep in his bed, and sometimes he does stay there. But now he also knows he can just crawl up in our bed like it’s his own and get a night of rest with two of his favorite people and his best dog friend.
Unfortunately, the sweet angel that slept in the pencil position turned into a violent flopping bass getting reeled out of a lake. I guess he was on his best behavior the first few nights or he realized I would not hesitate to kick him out again.
So my new normal is to possible wake up with a pair of smelly four year old feet in my face. Or a tiny body draped horizontally over both me and Logan.
It is not unheard of for me to get out of bed after Henry crawls in and move to his bed so I can actually have a little space.
It is also not rare for me to wake up in a bed with Paw Patrol sheets and a Bat Signal on the wall. Because I am a grown woman. And nothing says “grown woman” like a star nightlight and finding empty candy wrappers in your kid’s pillowcase.
So I will never say never again. Because co-sleeping at this point in my life has made it easier for both me and my kiddo to make it through the day. We both cry less at random times throughout the day. Ha!
But I might rethink this when the baby outgrows his crib and decides he would also like to join the family bed. Maybe then I will invest in some bunk beds for the boys.
Until Next Time,
Jamie
