Fact: The human head weighs 12,000 lbs when resting on one's trachea

My husband is away on a work trip again. Don't get any ideas, robbers, we have houseguests! Anyway, by night three, my kid usually weasels his way into my bedroom to try to destroy me via co sleeping snuggle. Warm fuzzies, yeah yeah.

Without fail, this is what happens every GD time.

Illustrations by the amazing J. Sytsma Alderink

Illustrations by the amazing J. Sytsma Alderink

4:30 AM - Kid jumps from his lofted bed. BOOM - house shakes. I ignore the sound and hope he didn't fall out of bed (or if he did, didn't wake up). What? Miracles happen every day.

4:31 AM - EK: "Mom? Mom? mahhhhm? MAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHM?" with his hot sticky breath invading my noseholes.

4.32 AM - 37 lbs are catapulted onto my head

4:33 AM - EK: "Mom? Mom? Mahhhhm? MAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHM?"

Me: "Wha? Where am I? Why am I wearing these luxurious flannel 'jams?"

EK: "Let's talk about Saturn [I sh!t you not - this EXACTLY what happened last night]

Me: "Go to bed."

EK: "Did you know Saturn's rings are made of ice and dust and rocks? Did you know that FOUR planets in our solar system have rings? Mom? MOM? MAHHHHHHM?"'

Me: [thinking] SWEET BABY J! There better not be a request for a 'ham picnic'.

4:35 AM - EK: "I'm hungry."

Effing ham picnics.

IMG_7120[1]4:50 AM - We try to go to sleep. EK uses his feet to knead my gut like a baby kitten kneads her mama's belly, while I pretend to sleep.

mhm.

mhm.

5:15 ish AM - I guess we fall asleep...meaning I precariously balance on the edge of the bed in a state of panic-sleep while EK snores away and monopolizes 99.9% of the bed's surface area.

6:45 AM - ALARM! We have places to go! People to see! Work to be done! Kids to be dropped off or I might freak the hell out!

(credit: Jacoba - A Yankee Mom in Texas

(credit: Jacoba - A Yankee Mom in Texas

Just kidding.  I love laying in bed with a kid's heavy-as-hell head nestled between my jaw and collar-bone. Obviously.

Part of me savors laying there, smelling his messy head of hair and the other part of me (the part that wants to survive) considers flinging EK off of my neck and gasping for air. The cuddling part usually wins.

Until he spits on me.

All I can say is Mr. Swirley better get back soon AND I'm seriously considering installing a lock on our door.

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    Annie Swingen

    Chicago-based hyperbole enthusiast. Mom to a kid and sometimes my mom. Overboard (1987) obsessed weirdo. I like the funnies in life.

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