Mr Sandman, bring me a dream...

make him the la, la, la...

Actually, I think maybe "Enter Sandman" would be more descriptive.  Last night, my bed resembled the mosh pit at a Metallica concert, what with all the legs, arms, elbows at odd angles, bobbing heads, and a ball of black fur in it than any place where you could get some rest.  And it wasn't due to Mr W and I being adventurous (that's on Tues--whoa, wait, that's another entry) it was due to all the kids sleeping with me.  Oh, and the cat too.  Thank goodness the dog sleeps in her crate, or things would've really gotten ugly.

When they're sick, they want their Mommy.  Crafty as my children are, they wormed their way in by stating the obvious, that they needed proximity to the humidifier, and as we only have one, which was already set up in my room, "can I sleep in here with you?" was the request at bedtime.  I had to get up for work early, so I was resistant at first.  PUSHOVER that I am, as soon as Ben retreated to the hallway, I called him back and said I'd work it out. 

So there we were, lined up like puzzle pieces.  I remember when we were bed shopping (I had finally talked Mr W to get rid of his waterbed) I chose to get a king-size.  For obvious reasons, ;) and because I envisioned perfect Sunday mornings when we finally had kids that they would come and snuggle with us while we decided what we were gonna do that day.

Once again, I am restructuring my vision of what I thought and what reality yields for me.  I've never been one of those people that absolutely refuses to have their kids sleep with them.  As it turned out, my kids slept/sleep with us/me.  It was never really a big deal, it worked with our work schedules, and we all got our rest.  Other people had more of a problem with it then us, and I've fielded my share of odd questions, the main one being "How are you and your husband intimate if the kids are in your bed?" to which I always <politely as I could> replied, "Well, you know there are other rooms in the house."  This always shut up the person asking, and sometimes made them squirm, which was the best part of it all for me.  "Don't ask if you don't really want to know,"  I'd add.  Hee hee.

Nolan and Ben moved into their own room when Nolan started school.  Right now, Ryan and Audrey are still with me.  We've had some weird circumstances that have allowed Ryan a bit more time than usual (I had a hard recovery after Audrey's birth; Mr W had an accident and could only sleep in our recliner), and Audrey, well...she's still little.  The plan is to start working on them; I need to get a mattress for Audrey's bed, but then I'm gonna try and move 'em out.  Hopefully the transition won't be too hard on them...it probably won't....

No, the transition will be hard on Mom.  I admit it.

I'll miss Ryan's little hand reaching for mine in the night, as he gets drowsy and nods off....just like Nolan used to do.  And I'll have to give up Audrey's thing, which is stroking my cheek for a little, before she rolls over and hugs my arm, like a  sleeping monkey baby....just like Ben used to do.  Ben and I used to name face parts as our nightly ritual as well.  "Nose" and he'd touch my nose, and I'd touch his.  "Eye" "Cheek"--you get the picture.  Sometimes when I tuck him in, he still does it.

On the bright side, Mr W can come back in, and I've missed his presence.  I know he's gonna complain about my snoring and moving around, and I'll remind him that if he doesn't like it, there's a recliner waiting for him, lol.  

But for tonight...

I'll be in my corner, like Bonnie Hunt in "Cheaper by the Dozen", keeping an eye on the sickies.  Touching warm foreheads, rearranging blankets, and patting backs.

I make no such promises for that cat.  He's on his own finding a spot to get comfy in, and if he doesn't watch it, I'm releasing the hound.