When Rosie was born, we were living in a much smaller house than the one we live in today, so when it came to doubling up the kids in one room there wasn't really a will they/won't they debate. And besides just being necessary due to space constraints, it kind of seemed like it would be fun, like an all-the-time slumber party. I pictured the kids whispering from bed to bed at night and walking into their room in the morning to find Rosie snuggled up beside Noah in a tangle of comforter and stuffed animals.
Except, yeah—Iforgot about the whole part where Rosie would be an infant and not even be aware of Noah's presence whatsoever. And cry while he was sleeping. And smell things up with diapers and spit up and, and, and …
So it was definitely more of an adjustment than Ihad anticipated. But Noah was remarkably adaptable (and in fact, probably learned his art of sleeping like he's dead from all the months and months of blocking out a squalling baby as he was trying to drift off) and never put up much of a fuss about having to share his space with a tiny person whose stuff seemed to take up 3/4 of his formerly solitary suite.
Aww, hugs. Or … smothering attempt? Hard to tell.
As we were preparing to move into our current house, the question of separate rooms did get tossed around, simply because we had more real estate to work with, but for practical reasons (we needed a study for school-type purposes) and also because I still harbored secret fantasies of hearing the kids whispered giggles one day, the kids were put together once again in a boy/girl hodge podge room. Things were touch and go still for a while—Rosie was 9 months when we moved, which was … not her best time for good sleep habits. But gradually, over time, slowwwwwly, things got better. And the room sharing began to be a bonus for reasons Ihadn't anticipated. Like realizing the house was a little too quiet and investigating to find this little scene:
But even though they were finally rocking the sib room like nobody's business (and even participating in the occasional after hours whisper-fest, just like I'd always imagined), there came a point when we realized that Noah would benefit in a lot of ways from having his own claim to (door) f(r)ame. He was starting first grade, was having friends over to spend the night for the first time and had started to hint at wanting privacy every so often. So we decided that the beginning of first grade was a good time to make the break, and the Great Move Out of '11 went down.
Books before bedtime, separate room-style
Of course the dust had barely settled from hauling Noah's mattress down the hall before Isaw the plus sign on the pregnancy stick and we realized that we'd be setting up a room for two all over again in less than nine months. Funny how life works out sometimes.
But Rosie has claimed fierce dibs on that baby being in her room (which is good, because that's where he was going to go, regardless, sister) and in fact was most concerned about whether that plan was still a go when baby “she” turned out to be a “he” at the 20-week ultrasound. Once we reassured her that the baby would still sleep in her room, even though he was a boy, she seemed to have a much easier time taking that bit of news.
So once more we find ourselves setting up for a brother/sister combo mini-condo. Noah has said more than once that he's kind of jealous he doesn't get to be a part of the roommate action. And Iget it. I'd want to be part of that action, too. Sharing a room, even with all its compromises and close-quarters and she touched my stuffs is pretty rad.
Here's to more years of parallel beds, laughter in the dark and waking in the morning to find that your favorite people have found each other in the night while everyone else was sleeping.