Since last week’s mucus party, Evan has been going to sleep in our bed instead of his crib. Evan slept between us for almost two years and I loved every minute of it. No. I loved ALMOST every minute of it. I love tucking his head under my chin and breathing in so deeply that his tiny curls tickle my nostrils. I love pulling my knees up and forming a nest around him with my body. I love draping my arm across him and feeling the rhythm of his breathing. I love the fact that I am always aware of his presence. I don’t love feeling like I never really went to sleep. After days and weeks of never getting past twilight sleep, I start feeling like I am sleepwalking through my days. I run on auto-pilot and nothing gets accomplished. I don’t want my own bedroom, but I could really use an hour or two in bed. Alone.