For the past two years I have been co sleeping with my son. The night starts off innocently enough. A cuddle here, a hug there, some slobbery kisses, and “Mama, Mama, Mama” said about a hundred times before he rolls onto my chest, falling asleep at the crook of my arm. The first year of Reyhan’s life was an absolute shit show since he was a crappy sleeper. He would wake at the tiniest sounds and take hours to fall asleep so this rolling all over my body until he knocks out is a welcome change.
After the pre requisite rounds of “Mama, Mama” and after my arm is deaden from supporting a drooling toddler’s head, I roll on to my back and lay there until time passes me by. I cannot muster up the will to get up from my bed and move on with my life. By the time Reyhan is completely knocked out it is 9 pm and I am no neanderthal to stay up past that ungodly hour. And it is not for want of things to do, believe me, I have many things that need “doing”. But after 9 pm my body just gives up. Every night I mentally go over my to-do list, fret and worry about all the things I have to do, work myself up to an anxious mess and even try to bribe myself to get up. By the time I am done with my mental gymnastics, it’s 9.30 and the sandman has dumped a shit tonne of sand on my eyes and no earthly being can wake me. Except when Reyhan moves clockwise in his sleep and proceeds to kick the small of my back ALL. NIGHT. LONG. Until I lose my mind and shove him near his father.
A night with a toddler is never uneventful. I yearn for the nights when I’d fall asleep and wake up only once – in the morning. No sane person needs to be woken up multiple times a night. Once Reyhan woke me up in the middle of the night and cried, “Mama, car. Car, mama. Car. Car.”
I lovingly smashed his head onto the pillow and whispered “Close your eyes and go to sleep” in a menacing voice. It did the trick for that one night.