I'm not really sure how it happened, but we are most certainly a co-sleeping family.
Never did I set out to let our children sleep in our bed...I mean, I wasn't necessarily against it, I just wasn't, well, "a co-sleeper". I kinda always thought co-sleepers were dreadlock wearing hippies who hugged trees for a living.
Stereotypes...I know, I know.
Anyway, the other night, as I was getting ready for bed, I gazed upon the sleeping baby in our bed. She looked so perfectly right at home, right where she belongs. I remember doing the zombie mid-night march back to bed with the Pal because some parenting book, somewhere, told me that's what I was supposed to do.
I think, in my "old age", as I've seen kids climb into, and then out of (preferring their own beds, instead) our bed, that this is a phase. A "and this too shall pass" moment in time in which our younger kids feel a need to be closer to us.
And is that so bad? Not in my books it's not...because I know that all too soon, this sweet babe will come to the conclusion that her bed is better, and leave us in the dust.
Maybe co-sleeping is just my way of getting an extra dose of kid time, but whatever it is, it doesn't bother me in the least.
In fact, on those nights when she gets moved into her own bed (adults need alone time, you know! Oops! Sorry mom, dad, bros, grandma, grandpa...) I actually fall asleep looking forward to that dead of night pitter-patter of sleepy feet coming into our bedroom.
It warms my soul...and it just feels right.
(I realized yesterday that the voting for the "Hero Mom" goes until November 4th. I know things like this can be a pain in the butt, but I would be so appreciative of your daily vote for my sister-in-law's story! Here is the link to vote and here is the link for the explanation of what the heck I'm talking about! Thank you!!)