By Serena Dorman of Mommy Cusses
The term co-sleeping is deceiving AF. First, there’s the “co,” meaning jointly or mutually. What a crock of shit. There’s nothing jointly going on besides your kid’s jagged toenails taking turns slipping down your butt crack. Then there’s “sleeping.” Um, if by sleeping you mean 2-7 hours of internal screaming to an agonizing soundtrack of baby farts and your spouse’s snoring, then sure, some sleeping happens.
Whether you planned on co-sleeping or gave up the good fight just to gain another goddamn hour of shut-eye, there are some unspoken guidelines on how to do this thing properly.
Here’s how to co-sleep in 2,457 easy steps:
1. Visit the Grand Canyon
Listen, co-sleeping means you’ll get about a 3-inch mattress allowance at the very edge of your bed whether it’s a Twin or a California King. You’re going to need some practice. Drive up to the Grand Canyon and spoon the edge of a sketchy looking cliff for a night while the burro you rented donkey-kicks you in the back.
2. Scream into your pillow
You might not feel like you have to, but trust me, you will. Better now than at 3 a.m. when you’re reenacting the “never let go” scene from Titanic with your sanity.
3. Play blanket tug-of-war with a boa constrictor
Or a tornado, or a tornado made of boa constrictors. 80% of co-sleeping is struggling to keep a measly corner of your comforter to yourself while your child and/or spouse curls into themselves, taking the entire blanket with them into their spiral of selfishness. You will use said blanket corner wisely: 5 minutes covering one nipple, then your shoulder, your ass cheek, etc. You’ll fantasize about something horrific happening to you because at least then the first responders will give you one of those aluminum foil blanket things.
4. Get resourceful
Eventually, you will lose blanket tug-of-war and opt to peel the fitted sheet off the mattress and use that. Like the dirty bum that you are. Thanks a lot, fuckers.
5. Seventh Sense
You gain a sort of seventh sense when you co-sleep that lets you know when your child is in an awkward position, or jolts you awake the moment your spouse even thinks about moving. You then throw your arm across your kid and hold it there like a pitiful meat twig barricade. If your spouse gets too close, you whack ’em. Oh, and it feels glorious. That soundly sleeping asshole deserves it anyway.
6. Flood relief
There’s no way around it. At some point, you will wake up in a warm pool of someone else’s piss. But it’s okay, you probably got 30 minutes of sleep, so you’re golden. Like a pit crew for bedtime accidents, you change your still-slumbering child into dry, clean clothes, then lay down a couple of layers of towels which will be just damp and scratchy enough to ensure you don’t sleep for the rest of the night.
Your kid is going to say some weird shit in their sleep and probably wake up in a sweaty panic because they dreamt about cutting your stomach with their dinosaur toy. After writing to the Vatican because you’re pretty sure your child was speaking in tongues, you’ll console them like a pro, answering questions for half an hour, like “How much blood does the human body have?” and “Do you think people get cold when they’re dead?” You’ll then spend the rest of the night staring at your child in wide-eyed dismay. Good luck getting any sleep. Not with Beelzebub incarnate occupying your bed.
I don’t know what kids dream about, but I’m pretty sure it’s similar to WWE’s SmackDown Live. You will be beaten to within an inch of your life, and, because you’re a mom, you’ll let it slide just so your child can get their recommended 13 hours of sleep.
9. Karma Sleep-tra
Kids transition through an awkward progression of sleep positions which force you to come up with your own counter sleep positions. Like a shitty game of bed Tetris where you lose no matter what. At least once you will opt to sleep at the foot of the bed where you will act as a foot warmer to your spouse’s feet, which is growing stalactites. #Blessed.
10 – 2,457. Concession Stand
Co-sleeping means around-the-clock concierge service for your child. You’ll have things like tissues, baby wipes, diapers, crackers, a meat and cheese platter, glow sticks, and a goddamn pony on the ready at your bedside. And that’s not even including the epic amount of shit you’ll amass whenever your child is sick. You will go on many red-eye trips to the kitchen for water and fulfill requests to “cuddle harder.” You’ll regulate the temperature at all hours of the night, making sure your tiny furnace stays warm, but not too warm, by adjusting the covers and blowing in their face when they get too hot.