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
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 AM when you’re re-enacting 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.
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.