Going to the dogs

When Alan and I first got married, we had a spacious comfortable bed. It was a queen. Then we had Kiira. We got a king bed. It is the most comfortable bed in the world. She sleeps in there occasionally. Not as spacious as it used to be. Then we had Evan. He's really pretty good about sleeping through the night. However, there have been those nights where both kids have had nightmares and I'm just TOO tired to try and get them back to sleep. So, there they are in the bed. It's getting tight at this point. And yes, Alan is there too.

But c'mon! Rennie has now just convientely forgotten that he has a nice comfy dog bed that we picked especially for him. And we KNOW he likes it. He has slept there for the past 5 years!!! And has he also now shunned the "nest" where Kiira is supposed to sleep when she has a nightmare - a little ladybug tent with pillows and comforters and blankets that was once forbidden fruit for Rennie but has now become yet another place he sleeps because I don't have the energy to shoo him out anymore. Does he feel left out when all the rest of us are in the bed? Does he feel he is soothing the young, nightmare ridden tots that have worked their way into the bed? We will never know I suppose.

We do, however, know this. I have learned to sleep in the fetal position. Not for fear of the unknown, a nightmare or despondence over not finding the right mate. But the fetal position has been born out of necessity. It is necessary for me to curl my legs around the dog who, despite the whole bed, only sleeps at my feet. It is necessary for me to make my chest concave so as to accomodate a sleeping child's head. And it is necessary for me to tuck my head to my chest so as to protect my face from flailing arms or the leg that seems to find its way around my neck. Yes, those of you who are parents are also familiar with these strange Cirque de Soliel positions that only children can get themselves into and out of. Our personal favorite, and also most dreaded is the "H" position when each parent is the vertical, teetering on the edge of the bed, while the sweet sleeping child assumes the bar in between.

We as parents, are only the rock of strength that our children wrap themselves around.

Now Rennie, well, that's another story. I'm not sure he needs this rock of strength so I'll go out on a limb and say he just likes the body heat.