But I am really good at getting my kids to sleep, and on a sleep schedule. I'm militant about it. Like, probably to an obsessive level, but my sanity relies on it people! All four of them nap at the same time because Mama needs to have at least an hour of alone time during the day or I'll go crazy. The days things go awry and naps get messed up are incredibly obvious due to the crying and screaming (mine), the mess (the girls), and the general please-save-me vibe I'm shooting from my eyeballs to Josh when he walks in the door all "I just spent a day talking to adults and using my brain for smart things, I even laughed today and went to the gym and had a coffee break, and not once did someone throw up on me or wipe their boogers on me, la-di-dah!"
A friend of mine recently asked me what happens if they aren't ready to nap at the same time, and I was all, "Huh? Ready? My kids don't get a say regarding sleep. This isn't a democracy, this is a kingdom of sleep and I am the ruler and that is final. NOW GO TO SLEEP."
Part of getting their sleep on requires me ignoring every maternal pull in my heart and soul to put the kids into bed with me, like ever. I have never let them sleep with us, because I know that is a slippery slope to trouble land and I am a giant pushover when it comes to my babies wanting love. So, they don't even know it's a possibility in the universe that people are allowed to sleep with their parents. I actually once told Addie it was against the law. She was 7 months old so she didn't really get it, but still, I put my foot down.
Sometimes at night, when they're all asleep and I love them again after a day of raging lunatics, I'll lean over to Josh and say, "Don't you wanna just go wake them up and bring them into bed with us?" And his response usually involves the f-word, which is really the only time he uses it. (He hates bad language whereas I find it satisfying, cheerful even. Often my friend and I start letters to each other, "Dear C*nt Face..." because that was once graffiti-ed on my apartment elevator and it cracked us up. Why the formality with the c-word? That dude was properly ticked off.)
And I am always grateful he keeps me on track and doesn't let me put them into bed with us. Even though at that moment it's all I want in life.
So, that is all to say that this morning I let Henry sleep with me. But it was from 5am to 6am so it doesn't count. And oh my God, I LOVED IT SO MUCH! Baby smell, baby breathing, baby only being able to fall asleep if his face is smashed up against yours - Yes, yes, yes and yes.
You can't tell from this picture but he was really heavy on my face. And I didn't even care, because ohmygoshhessofluffyI'mgonnadie!
I'm still not going to change my policy. The bed is the last of the sacred places the kids haven't ruined. (That's not true, they eat Cheetos in there and watch TV, and often I'll wake up to find a Barbie stuck on my leg) But at night it's still just ours. It's like a lone island in a sea of child-lava.
You can take my bathroom but you'll never take my FREEDOM!*
Luke racking up the cute points. Like he needs any more!
Not nursing. Trying to vie for cutest instead.
The cutest is the one who doesn't leave me engorged boys! EAT NOW.
Has there ever been anyone more excited to be at the park? She kills me.
Parks are the best.
*Said no mom ever. Because it's a lie. Freedom goes out the window the second that baby is out of your body. Kiss yourself goodbye and wish her a happy 18 years in whatever alternate universe she's living it, it's their world now. Good thing they're so worth it.