Someday; Just Not Today

It's 8:38 and I'm sitting in bed with my laptop on my knees, my husband beside me (who is watching Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives), and my dog at my feet.

Our elderly cat is cautiously circling the pillow behind Patrick's head, looking for just the right spot to guilt him into providing her more space than she has been allotted.

My ten year old son sits on the foot of our Queen-sized. Every few moments, he inches his way a little closer to the middle of the bed; hoping that we won't notice that he's not on the floor with his sister.

Haven't I mentioned that my youngest two children regularly sleep with Patrick and I? Haven't I mentioned that neither has slept in their own beds in, oh... Months???

Yeah. This was not "planned." This Family Bed idea grew organically (and sometimes it survived despite our valiant attempts to uproot it). But it has happened. It IS happening. And though I am occasionally resentful of the lack of privacy that this arrangement allots for our marriage, we know that Life will not always be this way. We know that the day will come (perhaps sooner than we think) when one of them will wander to their own bed and sleep there more often than here. It happened with our eldest. It will happen with our younger two. Someday they will be sleeping farther away than just a bedroom down the hall. Someday, we won't be moaning about feet in our face and 7 people crammed into one bed (2 adults, 2 kids, 1 dog, 2 cats. You do the math.*).

 Someday, I won't wake up to find them holding hands in their sleep...

Someday. Just not today.

*Pets are people too.

Evan the Protector

Corinne and Evan love to wrestle. Being the younger sister of 2 brothers, she knows how to take you down with ankle picks and strangle moves. But, being the youngest (and also a girl...it's a stereotype that I loathe, but is totally true) she is fully capable of bawling hysterically when an injury naturally occurs. Though I hate for her to get hurt (and despise listening to her whining cries), something lovely has "developed" because of t.

"Ah-ha-ha-ha-HA! Take THAT!"

~muted thudding of head to the couch~

"You think you're so tough? I DON'T THINK SO!!"

~additional thuds from bodies narrowly avoiding walls and sharp furniture~

A laugh.

A shriek.

THA-THUNK!

Pause.

"Waaaahhhh!!!!"

"Mommmmy! Rinny's hurt!"

Evan's reaction time is much quicker than mine. Either developed from true concern for her well-being or for his own well-being if he were to ignore her cries, he has subsequently grown into her protector.

"MommYY!! Rinny's CRYING!"

6 year olds are prone to crying. At least, MINE is. I therefore tend to wait out those first few bawls. No reason to ruin a perfectly good cozy niche on the couch with my dog and laptop for a simple bonk on the head, right? Since she is still crying and Evan has called more than once, I determine that her pain has a legitimate possibility of being genuine and might not be just another plea for attention. When I enter the family room, I am greeted by a now-familiar site:

Corinne is whimpering on the couch over a bonk to her forehead while Evan is "gently" patting her back, holding a frozen burrito to her head.

He is making a joke about how her hot, sweaty head will help defrost the burrito and then she can eat it for lunch...

And this solves everything.

Giggles dissolve the tears and, before I can even process every step, they've broken into gut-busting laughter, have abandoned the burrito on the couch*, and have resumed their version of WWE.

And I can go back to my cozy niche, confident that my kids are the most awesome ones in the world.


*I lose more burritos that way...