Six Bare Legs in a Bed (It’s a Wife’s Life Carnival)

No, that wasn’t the latest title to some Mills and Boon novel. But the image is a familiar scenario in our bed every morning.

Yes, in our family, we all sleep together in the same bed. Usually in boxers, hence, our overexposed limbs. As for my son (who has the cutest limbs of us all, naturally), he is 20 months old, still breastfeeding, and has sleep patterns of a nocturnal critter. I don’t mind his occasional middle-of-the-night wakings, not too much anyway. This is what we signed up for, my husband and I being believers in attachment parenting, co-sleeping, and babywearing.

Being attached parents is a lifestyle for us as husband and wife.  Things like sleeping in one bed and bringing our son everywhere comes naturally to us since we both work from home and our son doesn’t have a nanny. But sometimes I do feel like taking a break from mom-dom for a week or two, just to regain my sanity and escape one morning of picking up toys from under the sofa. If not for a week, at least for half a day to get a mani-pedi, spend an afternoon with my girlfriends or mom friends, or shop for something other than nappy cream or travel wipes.

Sometimes I just wish for there to be four legs in the bed.

This is why I have requisite weekly alone time with my husband. Yes, requisite, because I’m very adamant about us having one-on-one time together. (And I’m not talking about you-know-what–not all the time, anyway!) Our dates keep things fresh: I don’t want us to become so familiar with each other that it’s OK for either of us to go to the bathroom with the door open while the other’s in the room. (Yuck.)

Dates with my husband are non-negotiable. During our dates, I relish that I get a giddy feeling bubbling up inside me when it’s just me and him. I’m not talking about sappiness or infatuation, or “childhood sweetheart” crap that gets thrown around on Hallmark cards. I’m talking about real, honest, grow-old-with you kind of love that becomes stronger and more accepting as time goes by–farts, belches, bulges, love handles, cellulite and all. You heard me: farts. Don’t worry; I assure you we’re very much in love.

During dates, we don’t talk about being parents. We try not to talk about money matters, work, or anything that has to do with responsibility and being a “grown up” or whatever. There’s lots of that during the week, anyway, and dragging those topics into our weekly “our time” rather desecrates the moment. There’s a perfect time for everything, as it says in the Big Book, and we keep family matters for discussion on other days. During dates–whether we decide to eat in the mall food court or scout out a new foodie haunt–our focus is each other: memories, reminiscing our beginnings, talking about our dreams, just reverting to boyfriend-girlfriend mode.

After those dates, it’s back to full-time motherhood for me.

I’m always excited to see my little boy after a date. It’s important that my husband and I have ample alone time with each other–even for just half a day–just so we can miss our baby all over again. After we’ve taken a breather from non-stop parenting, we’re ecstatic to  greet our son with renewed hugs, kisses and cuddles. This is why it’s important I have time away from my kid: so that I can view my mothering style from a wide angle shot, not close up, and see what the heck it is I’m really doing. These are the times I’m recharged for my vocation as mom.

I’m neither a perfect spouse nor parent, and I don’t aspire to be. I just want to make sure I don’t bang my head on the wall at the end of each week wondering what in God’s name I’d signed up for when I decided I wanted a kid. Time outs from my son, times alone with my husband, and times spent in solitude whether it’s “me” time pampering or solitary trips to the supermarket–these are moments to be relished. These are the moments when I have the time to miss him, his antics and quirks. They’re the times I gain a renewed perspective on motherhood and a new discovery about why I love my kid so much.

I’m not afraid to say I want to be away from my kid. I know I need it, because it’s going to make me be the best darned mother I can be for him. Retreat, renew and recharge: that’s my motto for successful motherhood. That’s what keeps being “six bare legs in a bed” an acceptable scenario.