I had a planned to post something great yesterday (and by “planned” I mean I had an idea and said “oh that’s good, I’ll write that one tomorrow!” cause I’m lazy like that), but a little something called life popped up and ruined everything. (Yes, I’m pouting.) Remember back in the day when (like a fool) I said that I kind of regret sleep training my kiddo because it turned him an anti-cuddler that demands "space?" Well...I take it back, BIG TIME. The chance to co-sleep popped up, I seized it, and I learned an extremely valuable lesson:
cuddles are overrated I need a bigger bed.
Everything has a price and the opportunity to “cuddle” with Dylan was no different. Long story short, he burnt through my ten minute rule. (Meaning when he cries instead of sleeping, he has ten minutes to pull himself together and soothe to snooze.) On this particular night, the typical, “I’m all alone!” sobs were replaced with, “I’m in pain!” shrieks. Interception was unavoidable so I went into his room to see what was up. His cries ceased the moment I picked him up, which is a giant red flag for I’M BEING PLAYED. I promptly left him in his crib. A half hour later it was round two of screams, then round three, and finally when round four struck, this fool concluded there was something wrong. Dylan was in pain! The cause? A mystery. And you know what mysteries do? They keep you up.
It was one of those parenting moments when you have no freaking idea what is wrong with your kid and you wonder if a trip to the emergency room is necessary (it totally wasn’t). Airing on the side of caution, I took my inconsolable and very squirmy Dylan into my room and tried to
con comfort him into a deep sleep whilst keeping an eye on him. I didn’t understand what was going on as I went through the laundry list of agony-riddled possibilities: Earache? No. Teething? No. Fever? No. Stomach ache? Maybe. But because Dylan didn’t eat anything out of the ordinary, I spent way too much time wondering if somehow, while I was busy making dinner or doing dishes, Dylan managed to eat/drink something he shouldn’t have…like pennies…or Windex. Which, of course, he absolutely did not do, but leave it to sleep deprivation and a screaming baby to kick your imagination into overdrive and make anything seem possible. Dream land!
The rest of the night went something like this: Dylan kicking, squirming, and crying every other hour; Dylan randomly sitting up to request a, “Bottle? Truck?” (not happening, go to sleep); Dylan using my head as a pillow; and me floating in and out consciousness as to be alert but still rested (I’m ambitious like that). By the time my alarm buzzed at 5:30 am, I thought “Psh! I’m not even tired. I can do this any day!” So foolish, the girl! So I got ready, went to work, and began falling apart. My eyes were first to go, burning and heavy. Then it was my motor skills, no focus, klutz. Then finally, an “I wanted to cuddle and be super mom soother” migraine hit me like a glass vase to the head. I left work early, I picked up Dylan, we went home, and we slept. He slept for THREE HOURS! Obviously he hated sleeping with me, too.
So I take it back, I don’t need a toddler in my bed. Even if I had the biggest bed in the world, it wouldn’t prevent or deter the kid from climbing over me throughout the night so he can rest cheek to cheek on my face. And like a fool, I don’t move him because I want him to be comfortable. Clearly I’m not cut out for co-sleeping. BUT! If there’s ever a reason I need to pull an all-nighter, BINGO! Just add Dylan.
Really though, how big of a bed does it take to co-sleep with a toddler? Tamara probably knows the answer- girlfriend's bed is HUGE.