We put our mattress on the floor last night. There’s nothing wrong with the bed frame; we just finally stopped fighting the fact that we cosleep. In some ways it’s a relief: we’re attachment parenting! But in other ways it’s almost depressing: we’re attachment parenting. We have actually disassembled our bed to accomodate our child. ::insert crunchy-granola child-rearing anecdote of your choice::
The hope is that this will make it easier to transition Happy Fun Baby to his own sleeping area. We sleep on a relatively small bed. It’s full-sized, which Not So always insisted on. “We don’t need anything bigger! We like each other!” He doesn’t say this anymore, of course. I kindly refrain from reminding him that the small bed was his choice more than twice a month, even though there is an I-told-you-so factor I could cash in on. I am nothing if not magnanimous.
Having the mattress on the floor has already had benefits. I no longer worry about the baby falling out of bed, which significantly reduces my nighttime anxiety. Not So and I can actually cuddle, which is just so nice I can’t even describe it (because we do like each other, no matter what size bed we have). And in the morning I can let the baby crawl around while I get a wee bit of extra sleep. All these things are of the good.
On the other hand, my parents coslept with a mattress on the floor when I was a baby (although I think that was more pragmatic than dogmatic, since we were poor, and bedframes – not to mention cribs – were expensive). I don’t intend to do everything differently from my parents. For example, they ate food. I also eat food. But it does make me think twice.
It’s depressing to have a mattress on the floor, but I have my fingers crossed that this will make our sleep situation into something reasonable. I mean, there’s cranky, and then there’s cranky. Lack of sleep doesn’t do well with me.
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