My husband and I don't sleep in the same bed anymore. We don't even sleep in the same room, in adorably 1950's-esque separate twin beds, me in ankle length flannel and him in a two-piece crisp striped pajama set.
I sleep in Luke's room, with him like a barnacle on my side, as close as he can get to me without me actually absorbing him. Should I wake in the night and attempt more than an inch of freedom from his clutches he will sense it and scuttle closer again. Many nights I end up with approximately 1/4 of a full side bed to call my own, staring blankly at my phone screen, counting down hours of sleep I could get if I fell asleep RIGHT NOW and willing myself to slumber.
Nate usually sleeps on the couch, sometimes with Dominic and sometimes (blessedly) alone. We each awaken sore and un-rested. We miss our bed. We miss being able to close the door to our room without offending a small person. We miss being able to snuggle or have more than an hour together, alone.
Last year we spent way too much money going to Maine for three days so we could feel like there was more to us than being parents. I liked it. It felt like adventure and a small bite of freedom. Nate felt displaced and uncomfortable; too far from home. What I think he would like is more time/space/freedom for us within the confines of our home. I confess that right now I can't imagine that wish coming to fruition no matter how much we'd like it. Luke is too fragile and dependent, Dom is too unpredictable and, if I'm being truly honest, just too damn grumpy.
I tell myself that it won't always be like this but I'm not sure I believe it.
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