While sleeping in a small, cramped corner of my bed last night, I realized that I may take this closeness to my children thing a little too far.
We have always been very relaxed with our rules; you can eat on our couch, not make your bed, have water fights with the sink sprayer. And you will often find Hubby and myself enjoying the same relaxed set of rules. I make the bed maybe one day of the year. We truly live by the belief that when we are old and gray and sitting on our front porch, we want to laugh and remember all the crazy moments with our children. Not wish we had done less housework.
Well, that same loose parenting makes for lots of children in your bed. Not all the time, but whenever there is a nightmare, a need for water, etc, we just all crawl back up into our bed. Well, this morning as I watched Hubby, Cornell, Conway and 3 cats crawl out of our queen sized bed ahead of me, I realized I felt more like Bozo in the trunk of a clown car than a mother in control of her household.
The weird part, I wouldn't change it for anything, even for less cricks in my neck.
1 comment:
What a great image. And kudos to you, clown-lady... I envy you! You've guaranteed yourselves great memories on those porch chairs. And tight bonds with your pack. If I could only, only manage to sleep with anything stirring in my bed... sigh.
Water fights with the sink sprayer? Seriously?? Oh, I've got a ways to go in my quest for relaxed.
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