a bed of one's own
i think it's safe to say that operation "own bed!" is going rather well. really well, actually.
one of us will lie down on the little bed with paul until he falls asleep and then is free to either leave the room or climb up to our bed. sometimes in the middle of the night or early in the morning paul will express an interest in moving up to our bed (either by calling out or trying to climb up next to me. "climb. big. bed!" says paul.), so i'll change him if necessary and then bring him up to the bed, where he'll go back to sleep, bottle in hand. quite often, though, he'll still be asleep in his bed when we leave for work in the morning.
i'm happy and sad about this. happy that he's growing up. happy he's sleeping in his own bed -- let's face it, a queen bed may be a perfect fit for our narrow bedroom, but it's surely not a perfect fit for two adults and a wiggly kid. sad he's growing up. sad he's sleeping in his own bed -- i miss the wiggliness. the bed seems so empty without him.
this morning he woke me by rolling around and whimpering. i asked him if he wanted milk (it was almost 8 -- breakfast?) and "our bed." he signaled yes almost gratefully. i moved him up, gave him milk and he rolled into standard position -- on his side, back to me. we have slept like this for ages. much to my delight, when he finished his bottle, instead of just passing out, he threw the bottle to the side, rolled over, wrapped his arms around my neck and then passed out. it's a little squishing on the face, but so what? instinctively a boy hugs his mother. i miss this. it doesn't happen too often anymore.
eventually i had to breathe -- and i wasn't sleepy anymore -- so i shifted and a boy unconsciously wriggled free, face relaxed, mouth open, tiny baby snores in chorus with his father's roofshaking ones. i got up, made myself some coffee and here i am. part of me feels i should still be in the bed, but i'm not generally a late sleeper and can't force myself to be. a boy usually isn't one, either, so i must take advantage of the silence to drink my coffee in peace.