Before I married my adoring husband, I loved it when he slept over. The bed was actually warm! Without electric blankets, my feet are like chilly icicles. Second, there was nothing like cuddling up and being held after a long day.
Now, I dream of having the bed all to myself.
The magical world of new love leaves and the reality of always sharing one’s space becomes evident. Suddenly, we’re trying to figure out who gets what pillow. And some nights he’s lucky I don’t bury him in pillows just to muffle the snoring.
Now that we have kids, we duck, bob and weave any chance of those little munchkins crawling into our bed at night. Need to go potty? Use the toilet, and go to bed. Can’t figure out how to turn on your lullabies? Press the big round button on your CD player, and go to bed. Accidentally ripped a page in your book? We’ll take care of it in the morning. Now go to bed!
We are stuck in a battle of the wills. How many excuses can they make versus how many ways can we brush them off and send them back to bed. The back and forth of this tug of war seems endless. And as far as getting any sleep once we give in … well, good luck! One child sleeps horizontally, hogging the entire mattress while the other can’t stand being touched. Dude, you’re in MY bed. I shouldn’t have to sleep perilously close to the edge, teetering on falling out, just in case we may brush against each other.
When I was single, I dreamt of having someone to share my bed with. Now, I would simply settle for a full, uninterrupted night of sleep.