Two years ago, the mornings began with a bed of 4 people. Two of them were attached to me -- one nursing, the other one pulling my hair, and of course I always had to pee. The fourth one was falling off the bed but I did not feel sorry for him, due to the aforementioned attachments. This picture has evolved – Now, there are feet in my face and an incessant whisperer who actually doesn’t know how to whisper, “Mommy can I play with your phone?”.
Minus the ultra-disciplined ones who enforce the adult-only-bed-rule (something at which I willingly suck), any parent knows what it is to wake up contorted, tangled, and smothered by beings whose child-size instantly morphs into giant-octopus upon entering the bed. Yes, even the limbs seem to multiply. They like to position horizontally across the adults, as if to begin a log cabin. They’re in heaven, the adults are miserable, but sleep is more important than 3am discipline. If I lived in the burbs, I’d dedicate a room to mattresses. Just mattresses. However, I suspect despite this abundance, the octupii would still congregate to one spot, finding sleep only once at least a tentacle is draped on your face.
The last few months, I’ve been traveling a lot for work. My suitcase broke up with the closet and sleeps next to the bed like a third child. This time away has turned me into a sap that desperately misses tiny feet in my face. I come home and lay in the kids’ bed (they’ll only sleep together…wait till I tell their dates). I put my face right up in theirs and stick my hand in their shirts to squeeze their bellies. I smash my nose in their necks and take big, deep breaths. One puts his hand in my sleeve and the other snuggles my hair. This is probably how she gave me lice. The three of us in a twin bed makes me happy. One day they'll realize I snore, kick, and take up a lot of space. They'll realize they're sleeping with their mommy and that's gross. It's not close, but one day, I'll get kicked out. And this is why I won’t kick them out of mine.