The hazards of sleep-sharing

The sleeping arrangements at our house are always pretty elastic. Most days, Ads sleeps with his grandma in the guest bedroom but ocassionally, he will insist on sleeping with mommy and I will oblige. It would be nice if the four of us could squeeze into the bed we have but our Cal-King, the largest size there is, doesn't quite make the cut. So S ends up in a sleeping bag on the floor and I end up cozying up with Ads and Y, on the bed. I have to sleep in the middle because both want to be next to me (so flattering!) so I protect Y from tipping over by lining the her edge of the bed with two large cushions. This leaves even lesser sleeping space for the three of us; we are all bunched up together. Which starts off by being quite nice - I enjoy hugging Ads as we sleep, knowing that it's only a matter of time before he will find it mortifying to cuddle up to his mom. And Y is such a warm soft bundle to nuzzle upto. Pure unadulterated bliss. AAAH.

Unfortunately my tender maternal feelings only last for so long. Ads has the irritating habit of sliding up, stealthily and in stages, to my portion of the bed. I wake up every hour to find him almost on top of me, his hand thrown over my face, choking off a signficant portion of my air supply (another reason I keep myself as a buffer between him and Y). Ever so often, I
bodily
gently pick him up and deposit him to his end of the bed. Until the next time.

Sometimes, I simply give up these nocturnal activities, pray that Y can fend for herself and change my alignment so that I am perpendicular to both of them, sort of forming an inverted Pi. There's always the risk of a heel busting my eye, but hey, have kids, will live dangerously. Who says sleep deprivation is the exclusive domain of parents with small babies?