Cole and Avery shifted the seating dynamics so dramatically that we bought a van. Now, they’ve done the same to our sleep assignments.
Madison moved in with Avery weeks ago because her room was “too hot”. To be fair, Madison’s is generally the warmest in the house and the twins’ room is the coolest. As it stands, Avery sleeps in her crib and Madison sleeps on the futon next to her. Cole crib is filled with all sorts of things – toys, blankets, Madison’s bedding when it’s not in use – but not the boy himself. On the one hand, it’s kind of cool because the twins’ room has remained clean this way; everything gets tossed into the crib instead of loitering on the floor. On the other hand, however, these are the exact conditions that led me to being exiled from my own bed.
As a way to maintain our sanity, we split the twins up in their first month of life. We didn’t want one to wake the other and lead to a never-ending cascade of babies waking up babies waking up babies. There’s a play pen in our room that’s supposed to be Cole’s bed, but without fail at some point every night, Cole wakes and realizes he’s not in a bed. He cries until Lynnette scoops him up and plants him between us. Now, I love my son, but I don’t like him fussing 4-5 times a night right into my ear. I don’t particularly care for his trademarked finisher, the Stupor Kick. It’s that thing where he somehow rolls up to the top of the bed, but lays perpendicular to Lynnette and I, then kicks me in the face with both heels. It sucks. Two nights ago I was struck by the memory that Madison didn’t get out of our bed until she was 5. This saddened me greatly.
And so last night I took my pillow into Madison’s room and turned the fan on high, pointing it directly at the bed. I pulled the mattress of the wall so I could plug my phone charger into the outlet. I’ve learned the hard way that our couch is great for naps, but not extended periods of sleep.
I sighed before trying to fall asleep. I wondered when I would be able to cuddle with the uber-cuddlable Lynnette again. I thought about a 5-year old Cole kneeing me in the crotch and elbowing me in the eye orbital, just like Madison did. It seems intolerable.
Then again, who knows? Maybe Cole will decide much earlier than Madison that sleeping in our bed isn’t such a great idea. A guy can dream (from his daughter’s room), can’t he?