A room of our own

Head full of a summer cold, eyebrow swollen up from an accidental konk with Daniel’s extra-hard skull, I am reeling from our first attempt at a shared bedroom for the boys. I have been resisting it for almost a year, out of fear mostly. Fear of change, grief at Daniel growing ever upward. A grew up sharing a room with her sibs, and Ben has asked for Daniel to join him in his room for months, asked again today. We said “why not?” On a trial basis, moved Daniel’s small mattress into a corner of the room, made it cozy. The boys went wild! The promise of their first night together in that room motivated them to move along the bath-teeth-jammies routine. I had popped an extra-strength Advil in anticipation of A going to work and my imminent role in commandeering this adventurous ride (did I mention already that I have a disgusting head cold??). Oh, there was cuteness at first; a boy snuggled up to each side of me on Daniel’s wee bed for stories. But Ben just eventually flipped, refusing to have D in his room, freaking out about the change, the extra stuff in his room, the noise (D was actually fairly quiet, though nothing like asleep!). I heaved everything back into the crib, the eco-mattress weighing a farking ton, Daniel upset, me tired and frustrated. He powerfully jumps up suddenly as I lean over and “thwack” go our heads. I swear I heard a sound from my skull, then a piercing pain, and we both dissolve in a pile of tears, hugging each other in agony and shock. Ben eventually shuffles in to see what’s up.

Where do we go from here? I know that if I had left them long enough, hours maybe, they’d be passed out in there together. Perhaps it’s small-t trauma from years of sleep training, heavy attachment to bedtime being on-time. Maybe it’s my inner mama ache at the inauguration of a “big boy’s room”. Does every mama try and keep their youngest babies for as long as possible? I won’t even mention our half-assed motivation for potty training him (yep, he’s 3.5 yrs old!). We are kind of trying, with M&M rewards, and underwear time. Not much is cuter than that round little tush in tiny undies (size 2!). Daniel has gotten fierce and willful of late, while also weeping at every transition and separation; a push and pull of independence. A new pre-school, a new language (French). Maybe it’s enough. Maybe we’ll try this bedroom thing another time, another day, once my nasal passages dry up, my bump subsides and the boys forget this ordeal long enough to say “can we share a room?” again.

E