My husband and I haven’t slept in the same bed for a month. I no longer get to press my cold feet against his legs or feel his warm, reassuring personage next to me as I sleep. Instead, I am co-sleeping with a fidgeting, sprawling 18-month-old who at any time of the night can be found flung precariously on the edge of the bed, parts of him dangling over the edge just waiting to pull the rest of him off and give me the fright of my life.
Jimmy is proving immune to any of the traditional forms of sleeping training. He can cry longer and louder than any other mini-human being in existence and has caused us to throw all parenting lessons to the wind and let him into our bed.
Problem is, the little Lord of the manor was not entirely happy with this arrangement so dad is now on the couch and has been for a month. Jimmy, now happily ensconced on his father’s side of the bed, watches Ryan get ready for work in the morning with both arms stretched behind his head like some sort of kingpin. I know this arrangement is probably top of the Bad Parenting 101 list, but hell at least we are getting some sleep.
The problem that now presents itself however, is now what? We can’t carry on like this forever. This weekend we agreed that we are going to sell the cot and get him a big boy bed (*sob*!). Something new that has none of the associations of the dear little cot that he has grown to despise. We’ll make a big fuss and encouragement about him sleeping in it and cross fingers and toes that it works. But what if it doesn’t?
We’ll wait and see… until then I will strain my eyes reading old English novels by the dim glow of the passage light, and fall asleep next to his sprawled little body. The problem is I am actually starting to grow accustomed to it. Listening to him mutter new words in his sleep, waking up to his sweet smile, his little face so delighted to see me… sigh, maybe we should rather invest in a kingsized bed and let him stay forever…!