Waking Up on the Wrong Side of the Bed

With all of Mr. Man’s recent and constant travels, I’ve acquired several new bedmates. Somehow they can sense that my bed is only half full and it must leave some sort of unbalanced feeling in the house so that one, two or all three boys will at some point in the night come to my half-empty-bed rescue. Ironically one night, Mr. T, who is the craziest sleeper (meaning he moves around like he’s in some sort of wrestling match with his blankets, and wins every night) was in bed with Baby J and I and finally announced that he thought the baby was wiggling around too much and he couldn’t sleep so could we send him back to his own bed? I thought it was a great idea and sent them both back to their own beds. Now that Mr. Man has spent a couple of nights at home, the result is that they keep trying to get into my bed and find that there isn’t a spot for them… this results in tears and hurt feelings and the need for compassion and an escort back to their own beds… over and over again. Needless to say, I’m tired. Last night Mr. Man reasoned that we should trade sides of the bed – which is very brave of him for two reasons. First, it means he may have a rough night sleep, fending off the children and second, because it is due to his fear of the dark, the boogie man and any home invader that keeps him from sleeping next to the door in the first place. So we switched sides. Just knowing I wouldn’t have to deal with a kajillion awakenings helped me to sleep better. Mr. Man awoke early to get a head start on his day and I couldn’t believe how well I had slept. I thanked him and asked how bad it was. Knowing he can sleep through a fog horn, he admitted he hadn’t heard a thing all night and asked if I had. So it was a good night, or so it seemed. A while after he left, Baby J awoke. Being the lazy morning mother that I am, I brought him back into bed to me for a morning nurse so we could both sleep just a little bit longer. His soft little fuzzy head was just beneath my chin and I leaned over to smell his still sweet baby smell… and I nearly died. He stunk so bad, and he had just had a bath before bed. The smell was intoxicating, and so familiar… it wasn’t until the other three joined us in bed that I realized he smelled like vomit. That’s when our lazy morning sprung to action… somehow he had thrown up in his bed and all over himself in the night without either of us hearing it. I felt horrible, as did Mr. Man upon hearing the account. If waking up on the wrong side of the bed entails picking up piles of puke and sanitizing and bathing first thing in the morning, I think I may just take the lack of sleep. Gross. (By the way, he hasn’t been sick since and seems fine, eating normally and everything. I think it was the ice cream we had last night and his little semi-lactose-intolerant belly just couldn't handle it.)