What is it about the parental bed? I remember (waaaay back before electricity and indoor plumbing) crawling into my parents' bed at random times, if for no other reason than I wanted a snuggle. And that bed was oh so much more comfy than my own. I remember, really. I do.
So why is it that when my short peeps decided it's time to invade my bed, I can barely hang on to my schmidt with my fingernails? Every. Mur.Thur.Furkin. Night. Now, granted, it's not all 3 of them. It's Whiney. And occasionally Thing. But mostly Whiney. Yeah, Whiney of the chilly toes and clammy feet. The one who likes to sleep sideways and on the same flippin pillow I am trying to use. The one who moans/whines every time I move in a vain attempt to attain a more comfortable position. The one who ends up right back in the middle of MY bed about 10 mintues after one of us hefts him back into his own bed.
I'm okay with co-sleeping the baby, while he's a BABY. But a 4-year old? Um, not happ'nin honey. I've been up and running at night for the last 6 years; I deserve at least 3 straight hours a night, don't I? Or was that not in the mommy-contract?
No comments:
Post a Comment
Gimme some love and tell me what you think! No really, I can take it. I'll just double-up on those anti-depressants first.
I may not be able to reply back quickly (I am a mom after all), but I read each and every word you type!