bed sharing | Good Times with Jess

Sleeping arrangements around here are flexible. There are numerous options, some more desirable than others. As I was reminded of the other night, when BB’s feet sidled up to my cheek.

When BB was born, I was under the false impression that a crib would be useful. By 5 months old we abandoned even attempting it and she moved into the bed with me. Captain moved to the couch.

From 11 months old to 18 months old, BB slept in her crib. Miracles do happen.

From 18 months to 2.5 years old, we took turns sleeping with BB on a mat on the floor in her room, next to her awesome, car, toddler bed that proved more useless than the crib.

From 2.5 – 3 years old BB slept by herself, in a full-size bed, in her room.

From 3 – 4 years old BB and Captain slept in her full-size bed, in her room.

From 4 until present day, except for Valentine’s Day, BB has slept by herself, in her room, with 3 night lights, the hall light, and many whispers downstairs to see if anyone wants to come up for another snuggle.

When RB was born, I wasn’t messing around. She went straight into our bed.

When she got roly poly, we moved to the mats on the floor. Captain started taking the occasional turn.

And miracle upon miracle, at 15 months old we night weaned and for the last month she has slept by herself in her crib. Praise be.

Captain and me, in our king size bed, with no little people. It’s a real treat. I look forward to it almost as much as I look forward to coffee.

Then BB started begging to sleep with us. I tried to put her off with vague,

“Oh maybe someday.”

“When? What day?”

“We’ll see.”

“Tonight?”

“No.”

“Tomorrow?”

“No.”

“What day? When can I sleep with you?”

“How about Valentine’s Day?”

And that is how I agreed to her sleeping with us again, for ONE romantic night.

We all fell asleep parallel with each other. BB somewhat closer to Captain as he has agreed he can sleep with any of us snuggled up to him. But it turns out he has his limits. Around 1am I hear him grumbling,

“This is ISN’T working!”

BB is so far away from me; I’ve been sleeping so well. I peer over. Captain has all of 3 inches of mattress. He moves BB over. Two hours later: KICK KICK KICK. Feet are pounding into my lower back.

King size beds are big, but not big enough for a 4.5 year old to sleep horizontally with anyone else. I move her body back toward Captain.

I’m fast asleep again. Then WHAM to my face. WHAT IN THE NAME OF?! I wake up ready to fight someone. BB’s feet are at my head. Her face is snuggled up next to Captain’s and they’re both snoring away.

I need my coffee. BB is in heaven. She asks,

“When can I sleep with you guys again?”

“I don’t know.”

“When?”

“Father’s Day.”

She likes to sleep sitting up. You do you baby girl.

My Vice-President Kamala Harris action figure doll just arrived. Technically it’s a Hanukkah present for BB.

Don’t underestimate the little kiddos. After weeks of hearing about Dump and Biden, BB heard us mention Harris. She said,

“A woman? I only heard you talking about two guys.”

“Yes, a woman vice-president!”

“A woman!” Her face lighting up.

It can’t come too soon. Dump in the white house is like my children playing in their rooms unattended. I don’t know what they’re up to, but I know it’s no good.

RB continues on her path of showing me how different two sisters can be. Seems like a combo of genetics and birth order.

BB made me work for my sleep until I gave up and started bed sharing. Then magically at 11 months she didn’t need me anymore and then unmagically at 18 months decided she did need someone. At which point she had night weaned herself and Captain was in the bedsharing, mat-on-the-floor rotation.

RB shows zero signs of not needing me for sleep. And is nowhere close to night weaning. A couple months ago she was in the mode of a snack every hour or so. I broke her of that.

When I did that with BB, she ended up rolling away from me and going to sleep without touching me.

Which in retrospect is very much like BB, she’s not a big hugger or into physical contact, even pre-pandemic.

RB is the opposite. When faced with no boob to suckle herself back to sleep with, she does not roll away. She rolls on top of me. If I let her, she will fall asleep with her cheek pressed against mine.

This is impossibly adorable, sweet, loving, the best, a little bit of heaven on a good day at 7pm. At 4am, ANY day, it is another story.

When she’s zonked and I start to slip away, her arm flies out and clamps down on my shirt like someone rising from the dead.

The king-size, floor mat means nothing to RB. We might as well just have a twin. And if I was feeling the slightest bit nostalgic: like someday my kiddos won’t even live with me nevermind sleep on my head, BB has other ideas.

We get off the phone with my mom. BB places her hand on my arm, looks me in the eye and says,

“I’m sorry your mom left you.”

“Thank you, but it’s kinda the other way around.”

“What do you mean?”

“When kids grow up, they want to move out.”

“Not me! I want to live with you forever, can I live with you forever?”

“Sure. RB too?”

“No, she’ll move out.”

Of course she will.

BB informs me that her future children, who will be living with me as well, will be named: Taylor Swift, Laurie Berkner and Buttercup.

Sounds like I’ll have two grandchildren destined to become musicians and one will be a pony.