We worked really hard over the first 3 1/2 years to help Andy sleep on a regular schedule. I preserved nap times at all cost and ensured he was home in time for a good bedtime, even if that meant we didn't stay out as late as we could. So now I've gone and messed it up and started letting Andy sleep with us.
It started innocently enough. When I was pregnant and through last spring and summer, Andy was on the verge of dropping his afternoon nap. He still needed it, both for his mental health and mine. So I took to taking naps with him. I liked it, both the napping with him part and the getting a nap myself.
Then in the fall, Bjorn was reffing a lot of football games. I am generally so tired by the end of the day that I took to letting Andy sleep with me until Bjorn came home. The deal always was that Bjorn would move him when he came to bed. Andy always knew he wouldn't get to sleep there all night (just as well, too, that kid kicks).
I was out of town for work in New York this weekend (shout out to my Japanese karaoke peeps Armando and Jeremy) and Bjorn let Andy sleep with him all night both nights. Now it's Sunday night and Andy just popped in, carrying all three dogs, saying "I can't sleep." Drats.
The problem with all this is that when I'm sleepy, it's so nice once in a while to curl up with my boy and rub his back (he is just four, not fourteen so it's not so creepy, right). The downside, of course, is the he has come to expect it and that makes bedtime more challenging.
Oh, and yes, everyone survived the weekend. I always feel all dramatic that the world will end while I'm gone, and it never does. More evidence I can and should get out more.
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