Sometime last year I wrote a post about our daughter finally staying in her own bed through the night.
Her success was short-lived, unfortunately, but she did show definite signs of progress.
By late fall, she was in her room most nights from bedtime until morning.
So, finally, mom and dad could get some uninterrupted sleep, right?
In December, one of our cats died.
His brother was lonely and decided that the best place for him to sleep at night was with me.
More specifically, with my feet.
He loves my feet, wrapping himself around them at the end of the bed as if he’s guarding a stash of catnip.
It sounds very cute, but it means that my legs stay motionless throughout half the night. For someone with restless legs, this is not a good thing.
No, I don’t have the heart to shut him out. He would only wander the house yowling in pain for his lost brother, which would wake up the kids, who would run to our room in fear of cat ghosts, and then I wouldn’t get even half the sleep I’m barely enjoying now.
Thomas Edison had it right with his 15-minute naps spread throughout the day. Maybe that’s what new parents should train themselves to do, so they’ll be ready for the kids with the nightmares and the cats with the depression.