Sleeping in my own bed with my own husband for an entire night is very rare. You see, I have two children who are under the age of 8. Enough said, right? Between bad dreams, booming summer thunderstorms and summer bedtime all askew, a week rarely passes by when I sleep consistently in my bed with Hubby at my side.
Some nights, I begin my bed hop in one of the children’s bed. In all honesty, I relish this time. We talk – uninterrupted – of the day’s events, accomplishments and sometimes just plain nonsense. It is during these “sessions” that I get an honest glance in their lives.
Some nights, I am beckoned to one of their rooms because the shadows are moving in such a way that only a Mommy (or sometimes Daddy) laying present simply make the shadows less frightening.
Some nights, Hubby is called for and I am left all alone (these nights are RARE)!
Some nights, I am awakened by a young agile climber who is not only stepping on me, but carving his or her way into the center of Mommy and Daddy’s bed. Once this intruder is settled and has taken most of my pillow and blanket, I find my way to the open bed and rest my head on teddy bears and princess marked sheets and blankets.
I have read all the books. I know its best the children sleep in their own beds every night ALONE, but within a blink of an eye they made their way from their cradles to their cribs and now to their beds. The time will come when my husband and I will “just not get them” or they will “need privacy”. Until that sad day arrives, I will gladly sleep around and hop from bed to bed because that’s this Mommy’s job!