For the last few weeks, one of my sons has been waking up early, way too early, 3:30 in the morning-early, and then begging to sleep in bed with my husband and I. I love the cuddles and truthfully, I don’t know how long any of my kids will continue to want to crawl into bed with us, so I’ve allowed it to happen. Well now, it’s become a nightly habit.
At 3:30 this morning he went off like an alarm in his bedroom, screaming for Mommy. I was exhausted and in that moment of frustration decided that I was going to put my foot down. My little bug was going to sleep in his bed until the sun came up. I cradled him in his bed for a few short minutes, told him it was way too early to be awake, kissed his forehead and walked out of the room. I was shocked I made it out of the door before he began to cry again. I felt like a deadbeat as I laid back in bed for not bringing him with me and was about to go and get him, chastising myself for being such a mean mother, when the crying stopped.
A short hour and a half later, I awoke to my real alarm clock. After a few careless hits of the snooze button, I finally rose out of bed only to have my heart hit the floor. There, out in the hallway, just beyond our door, was a pile of blankets, pillows, stuffed animals, and my son’s tiny body, curled atop his makeshift bed like a puppy.
I. Am. A. Dirt-bag.
I don’t know that there could have been a more pathetic scene. He knew the boundary. I’d told him he could not sleep in our bed tonight, and he listened, and it just about broke my heart. Ugh…the mind-games of parenthood…