At some point last night Monkey crawled into bed with us, a fact I only noticed around 4 a.m. when her stinker of a brother began to cry for milk, and I became aware of a sense of being penned in on all sides.
Normally Hazel, my tortoiseshell cat, sleeps against my back at night, so I wasn’t surprised to feel a pressure against my left side, but I was amazed at it’s weight, thinking “Gee, this cat really doesn’t want to be shoved out of bed tonight.”
Thankfully I became aware enough to stop myself from shoving harder, or I would have rudely pushed my six year old onto the floor while turning over to nurse Otter. Instead, I sleepily informed her that she needed to get back into her own bed, and gave her a little kiss. She sleepily complied. Lee then raised his groggy head up long enough to notice there was another person in our bed, before resuming his part of the deep nighttime sleep chorus.
I still have no idea when she crawled into bed with me, or why, or even how. I didn’t notice it enough to wake up when it happened. There was a surprising amount of room because Otter hadn’t begun his nightly process of pushing me closer to the edge of the bed. (I usually wake up clinging desperately to the far edge with very little blanket while the men in my life happily snore away in comfortable ignorance of my plight.) I was just a little constrained, by two warm snuggly kids, snoring away on either side of me.
I could understand the family bed. I mean, I personally think I would go insane if I had both kids in bed with me all night every night, but from time to time a solid family cuddling pile is simply wonderful. I woke up this morning feeling well loved, though a bit stiff in the back and neck.