Well, Good Morning. Finally. I know I'm late with my post today. I'll bet you can't guess why. I'll tell you. I slept late. I slept until eight o'clock. Which I haven't done since -- I can't remember. And do you want to know why I slept until eight o'clock.
Monster Child slept in her own bed last night. For the first time. (Actually technically, it was the third time, but this was the first time she initiated it on her own.)
I made the decision of keeping her, first, in her bassinet in our bedroom, when I brought her home from the hospital. Breast feeding and all that. And then in our bed when she went through growth spurts, and then, well, she wouldn't go down in her crib and would scream bloody murder, and I just couldn't stand to listen to the poor thing so in our bed she came. When her father and I split up, naturally she wouldn't leave me, and I didn't bug her about it.
What precipitated the change of sleeping venue, you ask? I'm not exactly sure, but I think it's because her bedroom is finally finished. Sure it's always been inhabitable, bed, desk, chair, teddies (bears not pj's), dressers, tv/vcr (spoiled rotten), but I've never been happy with it. There's always been something wrong -- the curtains, the bookcase, the lamp, the chair. So last week I bought two (better) bookcases for her room, new curtains, rearranged the furniture and BAM! Her room, in my eyes, was finally done.
And I guess in hers as well.
I've read the child rearing books, I've had other parents turn their nose up at me for saying I raised Monster Child in a family bed, our doctor even questioned my choice. They all warned me about the possible outcomes, all bad, all negative. I don't think it's fostered anything other than a loving comfortable stable atmosphere at home. No matter how much we scream and yell (she soooo takes after my Type A personalilty and challenges me on EVERYTHING) there's always a giggle and snuggle in bed. I always know where she is, can hear her breathing. (When she was so sick for so long I would stay up all night and just listen to her breath. I had a lot of conversations with God on those nights.)
I knew it would only be a matter of time before SHE decided she would sleep in her own room. I have the patience of a saint (or so I've been told.) Last night, she went up to my room (with the DVD player) and I stayed downstairs to watch Masterpiece Mystery. I figured she fell asleep like she always does. At 10:30 she was still awake. It's summer now, I don't really care what time she goes to bed -- sort of.
She said, "I want you to put up my Princess tent on my bed. I'm going to sleep in my own room."
It's 10:30 on a Sunday night. I DO NOT want to fuss with the Princess tent. I'm tired, I have a lot to do on Monday. However, who am I to turn down spreading out in my own bed for the first time in six years. I snapped that tent together in record time, tucked her in, kissed her good-night, and jumped in my own glorious queen size bed all by myself. I sank blissfully into my pillows, not worrying about if she's cold, or moving an ankle or elbow, not wondering if one of us was going to fall out of bed.
Did I sleep the sleep I've been longing for? NO! I tossed and turned, had horrible, horrible nightmares, got up 3 times to check on her. She came in and woke me up at six a.m. I told her to go back to sleep, it was too early. That's MY usual time to get up. I laid there after she left and debated about getting up. Next thing I knew, the sun was streaming through the windows. I glanced at the clock and to my horror, it was eight a.m. I lost two hours to my Monday. Oh well.
Now I realize my Monday posts are supposed to be about love. I guess today's post is about unconditional love.
Tell me -- Have you bucked tradition where your kids are concerned? Have you done anything for them that other parents might raise an eyebrow over? Do you allow them things or freedoms that you didn't have as a child?