The family bed battle started years ago but it wasn’t until late last year that it escalated. For a while, it was mostly the First Little that was crawling into our bed. Then, the Second Little started. By the end of the year, one slept on top of me and the other slept coiled up like a puppy between my legs. It is mom life at it’s finest. They steal the covers and I am all but pinned down on a quarter of the bed by two sleep tyrants. And, guys, I’m freaking exhausted. So this week as school was starting, we broke the news to the Littles: we will be “sleeping in our own beds” from now on.
The first night, Daughter tried sneaking in. I took her back to her bed and rubbed her head until she fell asleep. It was 3am. Last night, she showed up in our room again.
“Nope. Back you go.” I whispered.
“But it’s more comfortable here,” she said half sleeping and very disoriented. In her confusion, she tried to get on the bed as if reaching the bed would grant her amnesty and was so turned around she fell on the floor. I helped her up and took her back.
“But I want water.”
“It’s too late for water.”
“But my throat is dry.” It was an ungodly hour and she was throwing out every excuse in the book.
“No water. Go to bed. I’ll rub your head.”
So I did until she was calm and sleepy. And then she said it. Four words that instantly broke my heart into a million pieces, “You could go now.”
On the outside I was cool; on the inside I was snowballing into mounting dramatic thought. As. I. Do.
She never asks us to go. I thought. I mean, she usually begs us to stay. My mind kept repeating those words. You could go. You could go? What does that mean? Was she ousting me? Casting me aside? I thought I had plenty more years before she dismissed me? Does she even need me, her mother, anymore? Throws back of hand to forehead (I told you… dramatic.) Those simple words fast forwarded my mom brain into phases yet to come.
Phases when they won’t want me around as much as they do now. Times when she will stow away in her room and hibernate in privacy. Moments when he will shy away from holding my hand or hugging me in front of his friends. Days when they won’t want me to walk them to school, or worse, be embarrassed by it. Oh the horror!
I know this isn’t guaranteed. I’ve seen plenty of mother/child relationships that don’t look like this and I hope we are one of those relationships. I also know that even if we are, it’s a phase that comes and goes like all phases in parenthood. But those words. In that moment. Ok. You could go now — were a blaring reminder of how fast it all goes and how quickly it all changes.
Today, their favorite place to be (other than Dave & Buster’s), is curled up next to me but there will be a day where they’d rather be any place but. I know it’s natural, the way it has to be. I know that good parenting requires me to let them go, to fly, to be free, to run wild. But whatever. Knowing it doesn’t make it easier. Daughter laughs at me when she shows me yet another wiggly tooth and pokes fun, “I know. You want me to stay little.” We laugh together but secretly, for me, it’s not a joke. Life with little kids isn’t easy — any mom will tell you that — but they’ll also tell you that they’d stop time if they could.
I left her room that night after those 4 words and vowed that I’d let them sleep in my room from now until eternity if that’s what they wanted. So what if I sleep like shit every night with no covers, little space, and usually a swift kick to the vagina by an unruly kid limb? So be it. Because shouldn’t I take advantage of what I have now? Appreciate every moment? Seize every chance I get? Embrace mom life while I have it?
This morning, Husband asked me why I was in and out of bed so much last night (Ahhh the dad life). I told him how the little sleep tyrants were attempting to infiltrate our bed all night.
Daughter remembering this said, “And then you rubbed my head.”
“Yep. And then when you were tired you told me I could go.”
“You know why I said that?” She asked and waited for my nod before she continued. “I said that so you would go to your room and I could go get water downstairs.”
Turns out she isn’t growing up too fast. She’s just sneaky AF.
Maybe we could keep that vow about letting them sleep in my room until eternity between us, ok?
P.S.
