When Sam is in his own bed at night, I'm going to spend a week's worth of nights on my stomach, with heavy blankets pulled up to my neck.

When Sam is in his own bed, I'm going to sprawl across my half of the bed, arms flung out and glorying in the vast expanse of blessed room.

When Sam is in his own bed, asleep all night, I'm going to snuggle against my husband and sleep the sleep of the dead. I'll sleep like I did before I got pregnant; I'll sleep like a kid on summer vacation.

Oh, don't get me wrong; I appreciate the arrangement we've got. I love cuddling with my baby, feeling his warm breath against my shoulder. I love not having to get up at night to deal with his needs; when he wants to nurse, he barely has to rouse me to tug my neckline askew and reach my breast. That's the way it's been since almost the very beginning, and if I had to go back and make the decision again, we wouldn't change a thing. We're a co-sleeping family.

The fact of the matter is, though, that many co-sleeping babies simply don't sleep through the night until they're way over a year old. Sam wakes to nurse an average of two to three times a night, and he's almost two years old. Even though I don't have to be really awake to deal with it, I still rouse a little bit when he makes his demands known; often, I've rolled too far onto my side for him to "self-serve," or else I'm on my other side, facing away from him. When he nurses, too, he likes to amuse himself by rubbing my skin, kneading it, and occasionally reaching for the other nipple (which drives me out of my mind bonkers, so I come sharply awake to nip that in the bud). A few nights ago, he tickled me under my arm, which made me jump and shriek, causing him to burst into tears.

And then there's the fact that, for safety reasons, I have to keep the blankets lowered away from the top parts of our bodies so they don't accidentally cover his face. I know that he's old enough that he could easily push the blankets away if they bugged him, but I'm still paranoid. Anyway, for somebody who's spent a lifetime of sleeping with the blankets over her head and tucked under her chin, that's a hard one to swallow. I've lived with it until now, and I'll live with it until he's ready to move out, but boy, is it difficult. I've tried just scooting downward on the bed after he's asleep, but he tends to follow me during the night.

This is not meant to be an indictment of bed sharing. The positives far outweigh the negatives in my book: not only is it a mostly pleasurable experience for all three of us (Eric has said how sleeping with Sam is one of his favorite things, and how much he's going to miss it when Sam's grown), but it's also probably allowed me to get more sleep on the whole, over the course of his life, than I would have had I put him in a crib. I love our family bed.

But, oh, how I'll sleep when it's gone!

We've been talking, occasionally, about another baby.

When most people make that statement, it can be automatically assumed that the answer is "yes," and the only issue being questioned is "when." We're not there. Eric, who was opposed to having children for most of his life and was reluctant to have Sam in the first place, remains opposed to having another child. The only issues swaying his mind are whether or not it wouldn't be good for Sam to have siblings when he's grown and we're either infirm or gone. Should Sam have to shoulder alone the burden of caring for elderly, sick parents? Should he be left alone when we die?

For myself, I can't decide. On the one hand, I always wanted a big family. I loved being pregnant, I loved giving birth (even labor, once it started for real), and I loved caring for a newborn. I think Sam would be an excellent big brother some day, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't wonder what it would be like to mother a little girl. On the other hand, I can't imagine having to rob Sam of my undivided attention. Money is a factor, too; can we afford to be a family of four? (The answer, at least for now, is a resounding "no.") I definitely want to be finished with renting before we would even consider expanding the family, and who knows when that will be?

Other factors rise in my mind. Sam is still very dependent on nursing, as he should be; he's still a baby. I don't want to risk a pregnancy that might result in him weaning before he's ready. Alternatively, while I know many people who've tandem nursed successfully, I also know many women who've gotten horrible, creeping feelings when nursing an older and a younger baby, and have felt frightening resentment toward the older child. I would definitely tandem nurse if I had to, but if I can avoid the risk, I will. I would like to see Sam in his own bed before a baby comes; I'd like to see him out of diapers. I'd like to see him verbal enough to understand the concept of "new baby." The bottom line is that at this point, Sam is still way too much of a baby himself for me to want another one.

And that doesn't bother me; I love being a family of three.

The scary part, though, is that if we wait for Sam to be more grown before having another baby, we could be waiting another three years or so. When Sam's a "big boy," how ready will I be to jump back into the world of colic, meconium, and diapers? Will I have the energy to do it all over again? I'm not really battling age at this point; in another three years, I'll be turning thirty, which doesn't exactly make me elderly, by any stretch. I know plenty of over-thirty mamas who've done the newborn thing with panache. My question is, after growing out of the stage, could I jump back in so easily?

I suppose that at this point, we're still in a holding pattern. With neither Eric nor me ready for another baby right now, that's not hard to accept. In any event, as long as Eric remains as opposed as he is to further family increases, we'll remain a trio. I'm not about to engage in battle on a subject which baffles even me; plus, we fought so much after Sam's birth that I'm not eager to start the whole war again. When the decision is made, it will hopefully be a joint decision, and one which pleases all of us.

Now, the question remains: how do I get the little old ladies at the library to stop nagging me to "give Sam a baby sister"?

Everybody I talk to is in "purge mode" lately. Yesterday I spent the afternoon cleaning out closets; I have a huge garbage bag full of fabric remnants and sewing notions of which I need to rid myself. It took a couple of phone calls to various friends before I could find somebody willing to take in more things as opposed to shoveling stuff out the back door. I boxed and reboxed small items to try to create more space and organization on the shelves. I netted maybe a few square feet of room, but I was able to store my yarn stash in a more reasonable fashion. Accidentally breaking a few things in the process allowed me to take advantage of a little more space, too, though that wasn't my intent.

Today I have to surface clean and declutter. We're having another game night with Alysia and Steve tomorrow, and the boys need a nice place to play. Sam will be on top of the world when he sees Zach walk in his house once more; I can't wait to see his face.

Anyway, enough lolly-gagging. To work I go!