No Rest...

I don't know where I heard the old phrase, "No rest for the wicked," for the first time, but it's been following me around ever since. My husband used to complain when I would try to talk to him while he was reading the sports page. (I don't anymore.) He also complains when he can't finish at least one page of the book he's reading between interruptions. I don't know who he thinks he is because I've been interrupted twice before finishing this very paragraph.

I'm sure I'm very wicked.

I get interrupted while doing everything. I can't even go to the bathroom in peace. (Moms know that is no news there.) But I draw the line when I shower. I absolutely will NOT take phone calls while I'm in the shower.

We put the kids in our family bed as soon as each of them were born. I was breastfeeding and when I learned that I didn't need to remove the baby from the bed and walk to the rocking chair in the middle of the night, the whole thing made much more sense. It was lovely, especially when you realize that they won't be little forever. I especially remember hearing something like, "They're not going to be sleeping with us when they're 10!" Except that my 10-year-old is still asleep in my bed right now and I'm up because my dog wouldn't let me sleep in, too.

We have a giant California King bed, which makes the co-sleeping much more comfortable for me. After losing sleep for so many years, I cherish it and protect it selfishly, as much as I can. My husband lets each of them take a turn sleeping with us on alternating nights, and nothing I have done has been successful in kicking them out entirely, so I just go with it now.

So since my kids have grown up sleeping with us, they don't really like to sleep alone. When it's their turn to sleep in their own bed, they ask me to sleep with them. I really don't want to and have a list of excuses, the most successful being that my alarm clock is in my own room so I can't. Saturday night, I caved and let my oldest daughter talk me into sleeping with her. It's still nice to sleep with her, but the fact of the matter is, I don't sleep.

She has a loft bed from IKEA because her room is so tiny that it gives her so much more floor space. Being up so high, in another room, proved difficult for my pets. My dog, confused as to where I was wondered from room to room trying to get comfortable. He ended up settling in my daughter's room, but woke me up a million times with his itching. Apparently the flea problem has not been solved.

My cat loves to sleep with me and since being on House Arrest can't go galavanting in the middle of the night so she wanted to snuggle up to me. The loft bed is too tall for her and she sat underneath meowing until I climbed down and lifted her up and climbed up myself again. I had to do this twice since she jumped down at one point to eat or something.

Then there was the elbow in the head. Being a twin bed, there was no escaping the pointy appendages.

Then there was the whiney dog to let me know he wanted to eat breakfast.

Then it was time to get up because we were going to the amusement park.

No rest for the wicked, indeed.