That title was designed to grab your attention….especially all of you “Fifty Shades of Grey” readers (really, I am jealous because I haven’t had the time to read some good smut). Yes, I have a younger man in my bed. He snuggles with me most of the night and occasionally rubs my arm and pats my back. The young fellow in my bed is actually my almost two year old. I will be the first to admit, I slept in my momma’s bed most of my childhood. I really don’t recall why, except I remember my brother wanting my dad to sleep in his bed, so I felt sorry for mom. At least that is my story…she might not agree.
Anyone close to me knows I pretty much require a minimum of eight hours of sleep a night to be at my optimum. My husband probably appreciates this fact the most. When I am sleep deprived I turn in to what you might call at “bitch-a-saurous” (can you tell we are into dinosaurs at my house?). These days, sleep rarely happens at my house. As matter of fact I don’t recall the last time I have had more than five hours of sleep a night. Okay…I know-pity party of one you may be seated. But the point I am making-I really value sleep. I believe in the rejuvenation it brings to the mind and body. My rejuvenation has been invaded by a two year old in my bed that spins like a rotisserie chicken and is accompanied by a bear named “Brown” and a blanket he calls “Blue” (creative aren’t we?).
My husband’s career is temporarily taking him out of town a lot more than usual. Like-he gets visitation rights to our life on the weekends. Somewhere between the two year molars, our move into a rental while our home is being built, and my husband taking a new job-my good old friend Mr. Sandman got lost. I am not sure if he didn’t make it in the move, hides in my husband’s suitcase, or just got mad at us and left all together. I sure hope he will at least visit us in our new place. I have vowed my entire life to never let my child sleep in my bed. This week, I ate those words and they tasted darn good for the extra hours of sleep I gained.
After two weeks of sleepless nights which include the old scream it out method; which by the way whoever came up with that didn’t have my child…he has the heart of a fighter so his vocal chords are armed and ready for a night of screaming. I gave in. Now, I have to work myself out of this mess. Even our cat, Miss Kitty, is mad. She sits beside Cooper on the bed and meows most of the night for him to leave. Occasionally, our eyes will meet and exchange a look that says “we could go sleep on the couch” but instead she goes and sleeps in his toddler bed.
I know it’s temporary and these are the days that pass us by. Maybe I will even be able to laugh and tell stories about it to his kids (I hope they cause him the same grief). But right now for the record, having a younger fellow in your bed ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.
Today my spoon is empty and begging for some magic sleeping sand dust from my old, friend Mr. Sandman.