It's happened. They slept in their own bed.... ALL NIGHT LONG. I woke at 4:30 am to no child's butt stinking hands in my face, no toe nails scratching my dry legs, no cries for water when the glass is 6 inches from them, no wet sheet soaking through the back of my shirt... I tried not to breathe too loud knowing they have the hearing of bats. I stared at our clock and did the math over and over in my head (it's two hours and seven minutes behind). I forced my eyes to shut and I slept like a grown up till 6:30, in my own bed.
Thatcher came in first so proud of himself rubbing the crusty sleep from his bleary eyes. "Mama! Me sleep alone! With Tessa! All night! Me super big now! Move over...." Then Tessa next, same thing. I was so proud of them, they were so proud of them. And hey! I felt rested! We all did.
Six and a half years of beautiful cuddling, warm breath, whistling snores, cold feet stuffed under my thighs to keep warm. I've loved it and worried about it, when will I sleep again?! This isn't the end of sleeping together completely I'm sure but it is the mark of a possible shift in needs. In everyone's needs being met. In recognizing the power of personal space. I think it will make me calmer, the kids will be less worried, surer in themselves, Jason and I can stop having the conversation of when and how.
It's just a little change in the grand scheme of raising a family but it's a mark on the timeline. I can perhaps start really sleeping again. Hmmm. Maybe I'm just dreaming but at least no one is waking me up....for now.
