You know how satisfying it is to collapse into your comfy, cozy bed after a long, hard week of chasing around little people here and there and everywhere? You know how much you savor each and every second you get to rest your weary bones? Well, apparently, my bed had absolutely no interest whatsoever in providing a place of serenity for my tired tush the entire weekend. I don’t ask for much, but I count on my bed to be there for me if only just for a few hours a day. I mean, after all, that IS its job, right?
Typically, I absolutely L-O-V-E my bed. It’s one of those huge, oversized kings that sits way up high, so high, in fact, that I have to take a running jump to get in the friggin’ thing. Because of this, I ended up getting into the habit of using the base of it as a step ladder to hoist myself up there. I vaguely remember one day last week hearing a crack as I stepped on the baseboard but just dismissed it as a normal bed creaking sound. However, by Friday night, it became clear that it was anything but a “normal” sound.
My hubby was gonna be late getting home, since he was doing his fantasy football draft (you know men & their fascination with all things balls). So, by the time I had finally tucked the kids away, eaten dinner, ran the dishwasher, and folded the laundry, all I could think about doing was drifting away to dreamland. As I was hoisting myself into bed, I heard a REALLY loud pop. I laid my head down on my pillow and realized that I seemed to be in somewhat of a tilted position. I got back out of bed to investigate the situation and discovered that the entire frame of the bed had popped out on my side. The baseboard was barely even hanging there. However, I was so exhausted that I got back into bed and decided to just sleep on an angle. When I woke up in the middle of the night, my back was completely throbbing and I felt like I was on the Tilt-A-World at an amusement park. My husband must’ve come home at some point during my restless slumber, so I scooched him over as much as possible and slept the remainder of the night dominating his side of the bed. Luckily, he was able to fix it the next morning, so I thought for sure that Saturday night would be my night to catch up on some zzz’s. How naive I am….
We were out pretty late with some friends on Saturday night for dinner, so I was hoping to maybe sleep in a little on Sunday morning. The kids had started school last week, and all the excitement from first grade had completely worn them out. Surely, they would take the opportunity to sleep in a little on Sunday morning, right? (Ha!) As I was lying there in my big, newly repaired bed, I thought I could hear giggling somewhere in the distance. I opened my eyes to find my kids staring me right in the face. They jumped into bed with us and immediately began squirming. They were kicking each other and crawling under the covers and doing anything but allowing me to catch up on those zzz’s. When I finally got them to calm down and lie still, I was briefly able to doze back off again. Within milli-seconds of me closing my eyes, I suddenly could feel a tiny finger pushing on my left nipple and a little voice shouting, “Ding dong! Is anybody home?” It seemed that my son thought my boob doubled as a doorbell. Well, that was the last straw, so I ended up kicking everyone out of the bed. Clearly, it was just not going to be a place of solitude for me. Like it or not, I was up and at ’em and ready to start yet another sleep-deprived day.
I have to say that my bed has really let me down. And here I thought we had this close-knit relationship and common understanding between us. I make it every day, and it greets me with open arms every night. What happened to that arrangement? It better sort through its little linen-related crisis quickly cause I don’t know how I feel about sleeping with the enemy.