After my husband left the bed was kind of strange. For one thing, it's really big. King sized, big for two people, enormous for one. At first I would only sleep on "my side", the other side of the bed belonged to him, and he was gone. Then one day I decided to be a rebel. It was finally becoming clear to me that he wasn't coming back, and so I slept on the other side - marking it as mine! As time went by I started exorcising all traces of his ever having lived there, cleaning out the drawers and closets and eventually painting the walls and completely redecorating the whole room. It was a big part of my healing, that room. I chased all the ghosts of my marriage away and created a place all for me, the new me. I painted it a rich dark purple and treated myself to an indulgent bedding set in deep red and gold and even splurged on all the accent pillows. Everyday I wake up and make my bed. Even if the rest of the house is a disaster, which it usually is. I love to walk by my bedroom and see that glorious fluffy bed waiting for me. It makes me feel so good, like I have it all together, which I so do not!
Each night after I wrestle the cherubs to bed I retire to my glorious bed! I kid myself that my bed is the one place in the house that is all mine, and I love it. I fall asleep square in the middle of the bed, kicking my legs around anyway I want.
The real reason I love my bed? Almost every morning, although I fall asleep with 76" all to myself, I find myself waking up balanced delicately on about 6", with tiny bodies glued to either side of me. My back aches as I cannot move in either direction, I am hot and sweaty from way too much body heat, and there's a crick in my neck! Some nights I send the little buggers back to their own bed. I almost always make them fall asleep in their own beds at the start of the evening. I make exceptions though, like when someone seems particularly needy. Usually this is one of the big kids, who have their own stresses in life and sometimes need the closeness of mom and the comfort of those 76" to help re-charge their batteries. Sometimes I am just too darned tired to get up myself, much less carry a heavy sleepy baby. I know that I shouldn't let my kids sleep in my bed for all kinds of expert reasons. The way I figure it though, they aren't going to be little forever. Soon enough they will be slamming their doors on me claiming their need for privacy! The fact that Firstson is now in fourth grade when just yesterday he was in diapers has me certain that by next week he will be graduating college - and he certainly won't want me cuddling him then! Our lives are busy, insanely busy. Sometimes the days fly by so fast and we don't have much time together. So, when they crawl into my bed in the middle of the night, I cherish them rather than chase them. Someday my house will be very clean, and very quiet and I shall be very lonely. When that day comes my bed shall be truly mine. Until then, I am happy to have my sweet cherubs kicking me in the ribs!
