The Perils of Sleep

Over the weekend we moved Callum out of the nursery and into his own room, and the toddler bed. Over the long weekend his Auntie brought the bedrail that fits on the bed, so the move has gone smoothly. I don’t think he realizes that he can get out of the bed on his own. I won’t tell him if you don’t.
We finally got around to doing this not because we realized that we were exceptionally lazy parents and the child should have been in his own bed and room before his sister was born, or because we thought that Callum is suddenly older and wiser and ready for the toddler bed. We did this because in the last couple of weeks we’ve realized that Claire needs to get out of our room. At some point during the night she will end up in our bed. Every night. This is because at some point during the night my own sleep becomes more important than any attempts I can make to get her to go back into the damn cradle. I know she should self-sooth. I know that I’m likely creating a very bad habit. I know that ultimately I probably sleep better when she’s not in my bed. I am weak. I like sleep. Or at least, I like to lie down and pretend to be sleeping, even if I’m not really sleeping.
I also like sex, which I’m guessing will pick up if there isn’t a baby in the bed. It will also likely pick up when Steve’s back heals from the severe sunburn he got last weekend. Idiot. No, seriously, the man is an idiot. You should see his back, it’s COVERED in blisters. Every time I have to look at it I cringe. I haven’t seen a sunburn that bad on anyone since we all learned that getting sunburns that bad can lead to skin cancer. In this day and age, when we’re painting the deck on the hottest day of the year we put on sunscreen or if someone isn’t around to apply the sunscreen to our backs, we wear a shirt.
Idiot.
Anyway, what was I talking about? oh, right. Sleep. That’s what I’m going to go and do right now.