Before you start to think that this topic is anything short of BP-G (Blog Post rated for General audiences), let me assure you that it is as salacious as Mr. Rogers changing out of his sport coat and into his sweater. Dang, dontcha miss Mr. Rogers? *sigh*
The issue at hand is that the three people with whom I share a last name (one by marriage and the other two because they took up separate residence in my uterus until each was forcibly evicted when their lease was up) would love nothing more than to share my bed on a regular basis.
I can understand because my bed is a haven of comfy coziness. Plush Sealy posturepedic mattress, 600 thread count pima cotton sheets, down comforter, six pillows (not including the ones for decorative purposes only) and an electric blanket that could thaw an ice sculpture in ninety seconds. Just talking about it is making me want to go and get back in it even though it's 10:00 in the morning.
In an ideal world (for them anyway), we would share a family bed with all four of us snuggling and slumbering blissfully together all night long. The reality is altogether different. Let's start with the Boy Child.
BC sleeps like a PRCA competitor taking down a calf in a tie-down event. He's flipping, he's flopping, he's got his feet wedged in your spine and his fingers up your nose. The kid is seven, and for his own safety, he still has a bed rail on his bed. I foresee packing it alongside the requisite dorm fridge and twin XL sheets when we send him off to college. And he's a sleep shouter. Nothing like being deep in peaceful slumber, only to have the person next to you scream out, "Grab the Legos and the unicorns! I'm on deck, so STINGRAYS ON THREE!" Regardless of what the ump says kid, when it comes to MY bed, you're out!
The Girl Child is a teeth grinder. All. Night. Long. Nuff said.
To say that my Handsome Husband is a snorer would be a complete understatement. The noise that emanates from him comes in on the decibel scale somewhere between a blender crushing ice and a plane taking off. Think I'm exaggerating? We had friends over for a movie night once, and everyone had to leave early because HH fell asleep watching it, and even at full volume, no one could hear the audio. True story.
I, on the other hand, am a silent sleeper. I've shared a bed with Moms and a friend or two on a girls' trip, and they will back me up. I curl up in my little corner of the bed, fall right asleep, and you are hearing nothing out of me until after I've awoken and had at least one cup of coffee. And yes, I am a very light sleeper. A moth could break wind in the room, and I would wake up.
Blame it on the Uterine Tenants, neither of whom slept for more than two hours straight for the first six months after they were evicted. I never needed a baby monitor because I developed a preternatural sense for when they were awake. This sort of thing is a great gift if you're a vampire. A mom trying to grab four or five consecutive REM cycles? Notsomuch.
But despite my waking every weekday morning at 4:45am when the guy six houses down fires up his car to leave for work (seriously, what is he, a baker?), I challenge anyone to sleep restfully with the Shouting Thrasher, the Teeth Grinder or the Extreme Snorer. I guarantee you will find yourself seeing your bed as the goal, yourself as the goalie, the fam as the pucks and end up slashing every single one of them back into play. A woman's gotta defend her right to restful sleep. And trust me, the world is a better place for everyone around me if I get it.
Sparkly Sandman Kisses,
D
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