Even though Lowry has spent nearly every night of the last 8 months in my (our?) bed, I do not consider myself a co-sleeping mama. To do so would paint me in light that I don’t think is accurate. I don’t bring the baby into bed on principle; while I understand that for centuries parents and babies slept together, and that it is totally normal, that is not why I do it. And while I do love seeing her sweet, round face when I first open my eyes, that is basically where the perks end. I do it out of necessity.
I liken it to sleeping on a plane; yes you have slept, but you are only about half as refreshed as you should be. At this point, half is better than nothing. My body hurts every morning from contorting in various positions; my fingers and hands are often numb from lack of circulation. But every once and awhile, after a middle of the night feeding, she will roll over and give me just enough space to get comfortable, and we will both sleep deeply. Until once again I feel her feet in my back, urging me to roll over and fill her tiny tummy.
Where is Ryan in all this? Often on the opposite edge of our bed; our family looking like a giant letter H (don’t ask me why or how she turns herself perpendicular). Sometimes he goes to sleep in another room; Beatrix has two twin beds, an ideal situation that happened just by chance. I know someday it will just be the two of us. My dream is to one day get a posh hotel room, with a giant bed and high quality sheets, and to sleep right in the middle of it, arms and legs spread out in all directions, and to just sleep until I am ready to wake.
There is one more reason I don’t consider myself a co-sleeping mom: I hate parenting labels! Attachment-this, free-range-that; what does that even mean? Is there really a parent out there who prescribes to any of these ideas 100% of the time? And don’t even get me started on parents who use words like always and never. “He never watches TV,” “I always by organic,” really? I call your bluff.
. The chapter was about taking a mini-retierment, but the author discusses cutting the clutter, saying “It’s time to get rid of clutter disguised as necessities” (265). And how! This was my chance; how could he brush off the advice of his new favorite author, in his new favorite book? I decided to go first, quickly filling three trash bags. Had I worn it in the last year? Did I absolutely love it? Goodbye! Now, just to add a little fuel to the fire, a challenge (Ryan is ultra competitive). At first he was resistant, but when I brought up the book he knew he couldn’t say no. I think he beat me in quantity purged, but our closet was cut in half, so really I’m the winner.
