A few weeks ago we reclaimed our bedroom. By we, I mean I.

I reclaimed our bedroom.

When we returned from Australia I found myself sleeping with three children every night. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday night all three of them climbed into bed with us to cuddle. My husband threw in the towel quickly, moving into our son’s room. For some strange reason he isn’t a fan of miniature sleeping ninjas hammer kicking him in the groin.

So, I found myself sleeping with all three of our babies alone. Our littlest Chennamchetty has never known the difference, she’s slept with us since she was born. Our oldest decided she would have nightmares (a claim she has never made before) unless she could cuddle too. And our son said, “I just want my mommy.”

How could I refuse?

After five nights of engaging this habit, repeatedly waking to find my body dangling precariously from the edge of my queen size bed, it occurred to me that this practice may not be sustainable.  My three adorable children snored away in dreamland bliss night after night while I repeatedly repositioned myself to accommodate a foot on my face, a kid between my calves, drool on my toe, and fingers up my nose. That’s twelve little limbs, twitching like carefree inflatable air dancers.

Sunday night I decided maybe enough is enough. I told myself, I actually do require some sleep. I’m going to have to cut the of-course-you-can-sleep-with-your-mommy cord. It’s a terrible choice really, between cherishing the short time they are small and want to sleep with me and getting abuse-free sleep myself.

Monday morning came with a stiff neck and a back ache. I was motivated. I reorganized the girls room, separating the trundle bed into two twins, introduced the baby to her new big girl bed and crossed my fingers.

It’s been a month since that fateful morning. Now I sit in my bed writing posts in cozy pajamas, sipping water (sometimes wine) in complete comfort. I don’t have to worry about turning on the lights, making too much noise, or waking anyone up.

Even more amazing, my husband is occasionally here with me. Most nights one kid will wake up for the opportunity to be escorted back to their own bed. Whether I do the escorting or Vijay does, we usually fall asleep in one of the kids beds.  Even so, this new phase is pretty fantastic.

Best part is, we get 5 a.m. cuddle sessions. When the kids wake up early, they walk to our room and climb in. We drift in and out of sleep together mumbling about hungry breakfast tummy’s and getting dressed for school.  Now that I’m getting more sleep, these conversations are so much more enjoyable.

Tonight I have the bed to myself. I think Vijay fell asleep reading The Caboose Who Got Loose. After I’m finished writing this post, I think I’ll make a gigantic X with my body, hitting up all four corners.

In other news, I have successfully showered (twice now) when I’m home alone with my kids! Of course, the doors to my bedroom and bathroom are open, and my kids (at least one of them) have a conversation with me through the glass shower door the entire time. But not one of my kids have maimed another one of my kids or allowed a stranger to enter the house while I’ve done it.

So, not only am I rested, but I’m also not a stinky mommy anymore.