It's been awhile since my wife and I slept together. And no, before you go getting all weirded out on me, I am not referring to our sex life. I'm talkin' sleeping arrangements. Girlio, who as you likely know already, is a conscientious objector to all things involving sleep, wakes almost every night around 11 pm to midnight. And when one of her pyjamaed parents go to settle her, we swear to ourselves that we will settle her and then return to our own damn bed, with our own damn wife, which is where we damn well belong. And then we end up falling asleep. (What can I say? Morning comes crazy-early at our house!). But that doesn't mean that the lone parent in the grown-up bed sleeps alone. No Sirree. No loneliness for us. Because most nights of late, another nocturnal visitor by the name of Boy-o thumps down the hall and sleepily climbs into bed moving around around he finds and curls into his waiting parent, murmurs something along the lines of 'I love you, Mama' and promptly passes out again.
Now - these near-consistent events are immensely frustrating and sort of lovely all at the same time. Let's be clear that I miss spending the whole night in bed with my partner. A lot. A lot a lot. But it's difficult not to melt a little when you go to settle Girlio and she whispers beseechingly 'cuddle Mama? Pweese?'. Similarly, when one is treated to a super sweet nighttime cuddle from Boy-o, who in the daytime is wayyyyy too busy to stop for a hug, cuddle or even a term of endearment, it can feel a bit lucky, even as you feel frustrated by your lack of time and grown-up space.
So - I know I belong in my own damn bed, with my own damn wife, with my own damn grown-up nighttime sanctuary, goddamn it.
But this sleep business, it's finite. And damn, those little buggers are cute.
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