our game of musical beds

By Abbey Nash

As I stumbled blindly into the kitchen for my first precious cup of coffee this morning, and settled into my favorite spot on the couch to enjoy a few quiet moments before my bunch found me, I found myself seriously debating trading my early morning hour of sanity-preserving “me time,” for just a few more moments of sleep.  And it’s no wonder I was exhausted.

Even as I waited on the couch for my morning coffee to work its magic, the tiny owner of the toddler size 5’s that kicked me out of bed by playing chopsticks on my spine, was still sprawled diagonally across my bed, perpendicular to her big sister, who was pressed against their sleeping father like melted cheese on bread. And my poor husband, clinging with every shred of dignity he’s still got to the 6” space to which he’d been relegated, was no doubt left repeating over and over to himself, “I will not fall. I will not fall.” Not that it’d matter all that much if he did. He probably wouldn’t even notice. In fact, he’d probably be thrilled about the extra space. Today, just like everyday, he’s exhausted. We all are. We’ve been up all night; up and down, that is. You see, this “family bed” of ours is far from intentional. Rather it is the collateral damage of the game we seem to play every night at our house; a game with which I’m sure fellow Baby Bunchers are all-too familiar. It’s a little game we like to call “Musical Beds.”

Every night we tuck our kids into bed around 8:30 p.m. We lay with them singing songs and rubbing backs until they fall asleep, and then we sneak out as quick as we can in the dark, holding our breath and hoping the noise of our stubbed toes against the toy box or bookshelf doesn’t wake them up. And then we wait. Because, you see, this game doesn’t really get started until about midnight. Believe you me, we’ve tried to negotiate an earlier start time, but the “refs” won’t have it. They’re sticklers for routine, and after all, they probably enjoy the four hours of pre-game snoozing in the vast comfort of their own beds. Alone. So midnight it is. Like clockwork, somebody’s crying. And the game begins.

Phase #1: “Scootch Over.” As soon as my husband hears our three year old cry out sleepily, “Daddy!” he methodically sits up and stumbles to her bedside, mumbling, “Scootch over.” His intention, of course, is to soothe her back to sleep, and then return to his own bed and waiting wife. But to no avail. He’s usually snoring well before she is, and she snuggles up next to him, thrilled about her new bedmate. At least until Phase #2.

Phase #2: “It’s Your Turn.” Within an hour or so, our 18th month old will inevitably wake up, and my husband, still sound asleep in the same room, will hear her first. Climbing carefully out of bed, so as not to wake our older daughter, he’ll scoop up the crier and shuffle back into our bedroom where he’ll offer her to me at arm’s length. “It’s your turn,” he’ll say, climbing back into our bed, and rolling over to one side. He’s snoring before his head hits the pillow. For a few more minutes anyway.

Phase #3: “I wanna get up.” Usually by about 3 a.m., the three of us are sleeping relatively soundly, so that the sound of our three year old clambering out of bed and shuffling down the hall doesn’t even wake us up. What does wake us up is a finger in the eye, my husband’s subsequent bellow, and our toddler’s soft, apologetic whisper, “I wanna get up.” Without hesitation and with only one eye open, (because after all, he just got poked in the other one), my husband lifts her into bed and Phase #4 “Give Up and Get Some Sleep” begins.

Phase #4 holds any number of unpredictable game plays. For starters, my husband might get tired of clinging to the edge of the mattress, and shuffle alone back to one of the girls’ beds. Left alone with both girls, and the pile of pillows tucked around the exterior of the bed, I end up sleeping awkwardly until one of them starts crying, inevitably waking up the other. I have had other nights where I’ve woken up in my three year olds’ twin bed with both girls tucked in beside me. My husband has been known to sleep on the floor, claiming it’s more comfortable on his aching back then our too-soft mattress, but I’m pretty sure he just uses it as an excuse when he’s too tired to make it into the other room. On more than one occasion, leaving both girls sprawled across our king-sized bed, my husband and I have found ourselves on the couch together- our oversized ottoman adding just enough room to keep us from falling off. At least until someone else cries and one or both of us have to travel back to bed in a sleep-deprived stupor.

 Don’t get me wrong. I know there are things that we could probably do- things like letting them cry it out, or “The Stay-In-Bed Technique,” Super Nanny-style. But I’m pretty sure Super Nanny doesn’t have any kids of her own. She’s never had to buckle two toddlers into the car and drive halfway across the planet just to get them to sleep in the first place. I can’t be positive, but I’m sure she can’t imagine how the comfort of your toddler’s face tucked beneath your chin could be worth a few hours on the couch. Or the floor.

Because the fact is, I know “Musical Beds” will be a short-lived game. When, (God willin’ and the creek don’t rise), my bunch is in high school, it will be all I can do to rouse them from their own beds before lunchtime. This time with my kids as toddlers, when my very presence is their greatest comfort, when they fit against my chest or inside the crook of my arm, this time is fleeting. And after long, hard days filled with the constant clamor of their liveliness, the night time comfort of sweet, soft breathing and a chubby hand against my cheek is too precious to pass up.

So I’ll take the extra cup of coffee, if need be, and I’ll catch a few z’s from the soft spot on the couch. Because I know that this too will pass, and when it does, I dare say, I’ll miss it. But I’ll tell you all about it after I get some sleep.

Abbey's a stay-at-home mom to two girls who are 3 years old and 18 months old.  

Comments

[Jess]

Oh my gosh - yes. That's our evenings exactly. This weekend, I'm going away without kids. I'm SO excited to sleep through the night...but I'm a little worried that I might wake up anyway just out of habit.

[Jill]

I love coming to this site to read the posts. They often make me laugh out loud and shake my head in agreement. My 2yr old and 7mos old keep my days busy and the nights are far from quiet. In the middle of the night, I often find myself humming the Darius Rucker tune, "it won't be like for long..." and smile while I rock them back to sleep. Of course, it doesn't stop me from falling asleep in the chair too :)

[stephie.arnold@gmail.com]

Love, love, love this. We have a 3 year old and a 17 month old and this scene repeats at our house very frequently. I gained alot of those same insights - about enjoying these sleep interrupted nights - after having number 2. I try to breath in all those sweet moments of cuddling and rocking and stealing sleep next to these little people - who won't remain little for long.

[Lisa]

Oh my gosh this is so true of our house every night! I almost started crying from relief to realize I'm not alone.

[Jennifer]

I am sending this to my husband at work! This is where our current night times have almost reached! Wish we had the king size bed though!

[contemporary Beds]

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[real estate philippines]

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