Four in the bed, and the little one said...

..."I ready to go downstehs, mommy." Cue the start to my day.

I guess you could say we "morning co-sleep". My kids have slept in their own beds for quite some time now. I co-slept more with them when they were infants and breastfeeding. Convenience, and I loved the closeness. I felt that they needed it as well. But I have to say, that once I reclaimed my half of the bed, and they were in their own beds, it was (shhhh..... kind of....nice.) I did miss the little warm bodies next to me, but they seemed to be ready for space of their own. I pretty much let them dictate when they were ready for that. Especially the middle kid. The smaller one, who came a mere 18 months after his brother, was in and out of my bed. Momma really needed her sleep. Having kids post 35 will wear. you. the. hell. out. When it is time for sleep, you better get it. Plus, that boy was my boob hound. If he was in my bed all the time, I would probably still be nursing him. He's three, by the way.

So, as I said, they sleep in their own beds all night, but when there is the slightest lightening in the sky, little feet come pattering in our room. Usually, it is the smallest. And he snuggles in so close and sweet, with his face right next to mine. He will go back to sleep...but then I am pretty much needing to get up and pee, but Lord, Lord, Lord....don't be getting up before that little boss is ready. So, I lay there, and smell his hair, and look at his face. It is bliss, even with a full bladder.

Next in is the middle kid. He burrows in next to his brother, and has to hold on to a piece of me...a hand, an arm, touching my elbow, whatever. He is a mover, not unlike an alligator once it has it's prey in the water. Rolling, rolling rolling. Eventually he will settle in, and all is quiet. As sweet as this moment is, I sometimes I look over and see my husband on his side of the king bed, nice and comfy, sprawled out, and wish the monkeys would once in a while climb in and get in his space. Then I catch a whiff of shampooed baby hair, and I know I am the lucky one. Sleep is so overrated, really.