The Family Bed

For some, this phrase conjures up images of soothing sleep, deep, connected breathing between children and parents, snuggles warm and cozy in the king size bed. Not in this house. It's more like torture. Dan actually has a bad neck, for the second day in the row.
It starts innocently enough. Someone is up crying. I go to get Reese, bring her to bed for a snuggle. I may or may not be on Tylenol PM. I warn Dan of this fact. He replies with a mumble about a foyer's plaster. Then, a heavy breathing baby falls asleep on my neck. I lay there motionless. I finally heave my body off of the bed and return the babe to her crib. No lie, I return to the bed and not ten minutes later, Riley comes in telling me about a bad dream. These dreams usually revolve around bad horses. We are investigating. She insists on sleeping only on my side, stabbing her foot into my lady town and her elbow into my ribs. She may or may not sleep there all night, it depends on how tired or bruised I am. Inevitably, she ends up laying sideways in the king-sized bed and Dan and I are both left clinging onto the edges of the bed for dear life. What a good nights sleep.