Co-sleep? More like no-sleep. 

You never really fully appreciate the extent of your toddler’s in-sleep acrobatics until you get the joy of sharing a bed with them.

Don’t get me wrong – I have absolutely nothing against co-sleeping. I’ve just come to terms with the fact that for all my pro-breastfeeding, pro-babywearing tendencies, I simply can’t do it. I’ve tried. And speaking truthfully, my daughter coerces me into it from time to time because she has very cleverly figured out that I value a {below-par} night’s sleep above the desire to {be awake at 4am and} teach her to consistently sleep in her own bed.

Maybe I just don’t like intermittently getting kicked in the face as much as the next guy. Sure, it keeps you on your toes and sharpens your ”unagi” (à la Ross from that episode of Friends), but getting a soft little squishy foot with quite a lot of force behind it, in your eye more than once a night, doesn’t allow for the most restful sleep.

Maybe it’s her uncanny ability to make a king size bed feel like a petite single.  I mean really, this is actually a little bit adorable – but only when I’m awake and not trying to desperately clutch onto any remnant of sleep I can get. Somehow, no matter how far I’ve strategically placed her on the bed, she will gravitate back to me (or her father) like a warm little magnet and plaster herself against one of us. Usually me. Tuna. I love you and your hugs. But I need my space when I’m sleeping. You spend the whole day having so much physical contact that you just crave what I feel is a very reasonable 40-50cm radius of space (okay, I’ll even take 10-20cm at this point) once bedtime hits. Totally reasonable, no?!

Maybe it’s the ever-present fear that she is about to fall off the bed. We do try very hard to avoid this. Our bed is designed in a way that doesn’t work with one of those side rails – and I’m convinced that even if it did, Tuna would find a way to leap across it. This little girl is born to be a dancer, I tell you. After being woken up several times by her antics, sometimes I just watch her while she “sleeps” next to us. The kid. doesn’t. stay. still. She will literally sit up, while her eyes are still closed, do some kind of graceful move with her arm, and then dramatically collapse onto a different part of the bed. Typically, it is a part of the bed that is dangerously close to the edge. Yes, she has fallen off the bed once. Yes, I am now completely unable to sleep when she’s next to me because I’m acutely aware of her every movement and its potential to be the one that sends her pirouetting off our bed and landing head-first onto our wooden floor.

But then of course, after all that, you roll over at the crack of dawn and see that heartbreakingly sweet little smile, feel those warm soft little arms around your neck and hear that delightful little ”mow-ning Mama” – and all is forgiven.

You then reconsider how completely adorable all of that was when the list of demands is rattled off at lightning speed while your vision is still blurry from having just woken up: ”Weetbix? Milk? Dinosaur? Swimming pool (which sounds more like po-ta-to at the moment)? Go bye bye?”

At least you slept well, Tuna.

5 thoughts on “Co-sleep? More like no-sleep. 

  1. Pingback: Nostalgia over my almost twentysomething {month old} | The Tuna Chronicles

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