I am totally prepared to burn over this one. Totally torch and pitchfork ready.
I know you are going to get all, “Hey, your baby needs your comfort! It won’t last forever!” Neither will my youth, my sanity, or my sex life. First I would say that my babies are no longer babies. One is two and the other four. Oh, and the 17 year old started out or finished up the night with us until he was 11. Needless to say the husbo and I have never really had a long stretch without kids in the bed.
What’s the big deal? Nothing, I guess, for the Sprockets who sleep blissfully in between us. But it’s a BIG deal for the grown ups with the pinched nerves, broken backs, who are totally sick of having someone’s fingers in their eyes, or toes in their belly button. The little cherubs who sleep all up in your face with their mouths hanging open and the dragon breath rolling out. Honestly, I am quite ready for Gitmo. I haven’t slept in years, and I can find total comfort in a bed that is 7 inches wide with a 3 foot long blanket. Gitmo or Hell week in BUD/S, you can’t break this momma.
When two tired parents try to break the co sleeping habit it is an EPICFAIL. The night goes something like this: read kids to sleep, move them to their beds, sleep for two hours in what seems like a vast sea, then one by one the kids come to the bed side. At that moment we should be marching them back to their beds, but who has the energy to do that? So they snuggle up all cute like and drift off into dreamy serenity. Sometimes dad and I just stare at eachother. Or we cuss and hit the pillows. Or growl.
Point is, sometimes the best thing we can do for our kids is the best thing we SHOULD do for ourselves. If that means getting a bigger bed, yay bigger bed. If that means forcing the kids into their beds until they “get it”, oh yes please.