If you’ve found my blog through some explicit adult only Google search (!) let me start by pointing out that, sorry, it’s not that kind of post.
Today is about my kids sleeping in my bed-both kids, a fair few times a week.
We call it ‘Musical Beds’ here, are you familiar with this ‘game’?
I don’t know, maybe it’s down to the relaxed summer days or too laxe parenting on our part, or perhaps my kids are simply built like I was as child (*whispers-I shared my folks’ bed until I was 7 with poor Dad being booted into the spare room)…Whatever it is, thank goodness for our queen size bed, is all I can say.
Both boys have a double bed in each of their rooms at their request yet they still seem to prefer us all huddled together rather than one parent in each if they wake up having nightmares or just you know decide 3 am is the normal time to rise.
The youngest won’t let the eldest sleep with him either, something I know has worked for friends. So there we are, in the middle of the night, little sardines (apart from Peter who is 6’3 and a rather tall sardine) squashed together with no room to stretch.
…I breastfed both boys which meant falling asleep most/make that every night with each cuddled and close and you know what, it must undoubtedly be the sweetest way to nod off (breastfed or not), to feel that nurturing warmth of your Mama, all womb-like and cozy.
I’m not getting into a debate about co-sleeping, just do what feels right for you and keeps your kids physically safe, I personally believe in the power of a mother’s instinct and culturally many sleep with their kids as the norm, and that was what we did.
And yes most nights, both boys sleep solo for the majority of the night, but there are at least 2 nights a week where there’s 4 in the bed as my little sleepwalkers find their way in to Hotel Mum and Dad.
And this morning after another disrupted night, I realised something. That although sharing your bed with little ones be uncomfortable and annoying, legs and arms everywhere, pillows stolen and usually on the floor, I do rather love it- because it won’t last forever.
My kids are growing up at a crazy speed and while it’s exciting to seem them flourish (and scary too as they turn into teenagers before my eyes with door slamming and meltdowns from my 5 going on 15 year old) it is also rather bitter sweet.
Alexander turns 3 on Sunday, Oliver will be 6 in January and if these nights of sleep raiding and midnight cuddles cease, I know I’d mourn them.
Sometimes, even the most frustrating times of parenthood can be the most tender.
And then other times, you’re just tired. Really tired.
What say you?
You’re still laughing about me sleeping with my Mum aged 7 aren’t you?!