There’s so much talk about co-sleeping and whether it’s dangerous to the child. Well as a semi-regular reluctant co-sleeper for the past 4 years, 5 months and 15 days I can now safely say that it’s dangerous to me. Where are the stats on that, AAP? Huh? Huh?

I woke up at 3AM with my back in the most awful spasm thanks to the weight of two children and a rheumy cat on my chest. (Oh, didn’t you new parents know? The children don’t sleep next to you on the bed, the children sleep on you in the bed.)With the muscle pressing against my rib cage, breathing is now something less than a joy, to say nothing of standing, sitting, popping the zit on my forehead, and doing the Achy Breaky Heart.

I’m sure last night was just the 65-pound straw that broke the camel’s back, considering I was still on the mend from the previous night’s three-person romp in a single bed at my brother’s place. And by romp I mean I NEED TO SLEEP YOU TINY PEOPLE GET OUT OF MY BED.

And so, it’s finally happened. All the years of  co-not-sleeping over the years has added up. And it’s broken me. The kids? Oh, they’re delightfully well-adjusted. One more thing I can hold over their heads in later years.

See you on the acupuncture table.