I saw this diagram from How to be a Dad some time ago, and while I thought it was pretty funny, I can now fully appreciate its genius. Because, you see, it wasn't until recently that I was able to experience many of these positions first hand. We 'co-slept' with Violet using a co-sleeper when she was an infant. She didn't move then and she wasn't actually in our bed - just in a little bassinet attached to the side of it. When she was a few months old I moved her into her crib and never looked back. Although there have been times when I've wanted to nap with her, she always made it an impossibility. She's the type to get a bit manic and thrashing (quite like her mama) when she gets tired, and it's virtually impossible to get her to fall asleep without trapping her in an un-stimulating (read not fun) place like a crib.
Then we flew to Australia. The combination of sleeping ON me (quite literally I was her bed) for most of the trip and the chilly winter nights in Australia sans heat (it doesn't cold enough in Queensland to really require heat, but the nights are very cold - especially for a toddler who won't keep her covers on) convinced us to let Violet sleep in our bed every now and then. I mean, we were on vacation right? We could change things up a bit. Well, needless to say the practice has followed us home. She asks almost every night to 'seep Mommy Daddy's bed', and while I usually refuse on weeknights, I often give in on the weekends. In a way I really enjoy it. I love being able to snuggle my baby and watch her all sweet and peaceful in dreamland. But then she performs The Roundhouse Kick closely followed by The Neck Scarf, and my visions of snuggly family sleep time disappear.
Because only one of us is sleeping. (And it isn't me.)