MOM-ents: The Family Bed

First of all, I am against parenting extremists in any situation.  Whether you are pro-breast, pro-organic food, anti-co-sleeping, or anti-walker I don’t care.  What you do with your child is your opinion and you will not change my opinion or make me feel bad about it.  With that being said…

Our kids sleep in bed with us.  Not just when they are scared, not just when they are sick.  Every. Night. 

I remember a friend’s childless girlfriend finding this out one time and she was absolutely disgusted.   “I would NEVER let my kid in my bed.” I wanted to tell her that she would more than likely never find someone to have kids with.  Instead I just smiled and nodded.  (They are no longer together.  SHOCK ME.)

It started because I was nursing, and I loved my sleep.  When I discovered I could “get up” in the middle of the night without actually waking up to feed them I was hooked.  I joked, “I don’t know if the baby is sleeping through the night, but I know I am!”

We did have about a six month window for each kid when they slept fine in their cribs and then some defining moment that put them in bed with us.  For Ryann it was when she was able to climb out of her crib.  For Matthew it was a “recent” (December) cold that left him so congested I put him in bed with us so he could be propped up on a pillow to drain while he slept. 

I am jealous of parents that can’t wait until eight o’clock (seven for some, if you can believe it) so they can put the kids down.  In their own rooms.  For twelve hours.  Our kids stay up with us until we go to sleep.  Sometimes that is pretty late, but they will make up for it by sleeping in, taking a long nap, or both (bonus day!).

I hate that sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night because I get head-butted or kicked in the face.  I love that sometimes I wake up with a chubby little arm around my neck.

I hate that Matthew will wake me up in the middle of the night crying.  I love that he will go right back to sleep as soon as I take his hand or put mine on his chest.

I hate trying to settle both kids down to sleep at the same time when all they want to do is kick each other.  I love waking up before them in the morning and seeing them cuddling each other.

I hate that sometimes I spring awake because Ryann is having a nightmare.  I love hearing her daddy comforting her. 

I hate that Ryann refers to it as “our bed.”  I secretly love when Ryann calls it “our bed.”

I hate that I don’t get to cuddle my hubby as much as I would like to.  I love that I feel closer to him than ever with 60+ pounds of baby between us.