At this moment both of my kids are asleep in their own beds.
That's big. Real big.
Lately, we've been forced to do the whole "Family Bed" thing, and I've gotta say, it's getting o.l.d.
I'm not a fan.
I'm not a willing participant.
In fact, I would reaaally like my bed back.
I love my kids. I adore my kids. I want to eat their cute little cheekies for breakfast.
But I want to sleep in my bed alone.
With my husband.
And no one else.
We begin each night as a resolute front. David and I are a team. We're in this together. We're the adults. We're the boss (es). We will keep our pint-sized opponents at bay.
We brace ourselves for the weeping and gnashing of teeth that inevitably follows our declaration of "It's time to go to bed", and stand firm despite urgent pleas of "Just one more minute!".
We will NOT back down. Every child will sleep in his/her own bed ALL night.
Or for at least 6 hours.
David takes the girl.
I take the boy.
Divide and conquer. Victory is within view.
Our regimented routine is laid out perfectly. Deviation will most certainly equal defeat.
On the Eastern Front:
David faces fierce negotiations. Agreement is made. There will be just one more bed time story.
At the West: I battle whining and lost pacis.
At the Eastern Battle Field:
David struggles to stand strong in the face of fierce opposition.
On the Western Front:
The boy's restlessness finally gives way to fatigue.
At the rendezvous point, I realize that David has not returned from his Battle Station/Thingy/Place/whatever you call it.
Despite the danger of re-entering hostile territory, I must leave no man behind.
I'm going in.
Very carefully, I nudge David.
He awakes looking grateful.
We quietly retreat to our quarters feeling quite proud of our hard won victory.
But oh how the prideful fall.
Our opponents are formidable.
Bery, Bery sneaky.
(I think you underestimate the sneakiness).
Hours later, bleary eyed and un-caffeinated, we hear the enemy's battle cry.
Our defenses are weak.
We have no choice but to surrender.
Another battle lost as we sleep with toddler feet in our face and cricks in our necks.
In a FULL sized bed.
No. That's not an exaggeration. Just a slightly altered version of the truth.
The truth is much more frightening.