Tuesday, February 2, 2010


Gavin gave me this topic when I told him I couldn’t think of anything to write about. He typed it at the top of this page and said, “There. You can write about that.” So I am.

There was an ad campaign for mattresses some time ago, possibly for Slumberland or some such store. The tag line was “I love my bed.” I always liked that ad because I could relate. As someone who needs a more-than-average amount of sleep, I utilize that particular piece of furniture more than any other in the house.

It’s sort of sad that we haven’t made a greater investment in our mattress—we bought it 1999, when Eiledon was a baby. It was all we could afford and we were told it would probably last about five years. We thought by that point we’d certainly be able to “upgrade.” Alas, other things have always taken financial precedence and we’re still sleeping on the same mattress.

It has two deep wells, one on Dan’s side, one on mine, so that when a child crawls in with us in the middle of the night, he or she inevitably rolls on top of one or the other of us. With Gavin, the problem is that he generates more heat than a small nuclear plant, making the crushed parent sweat profusely. With Eiledon, it’s her elbows and knees—she has almost no body fat so she’s quite bony. I love waking up with a sharp object crammed into my neck, don’t you?

We originally bought the king-sized bed because I am a restless sleeper. I flop around and kick and on not one but two occasions have awakened in the middle of a dream only to watch myself punching my husband in the face. Dan takes up about 20 percent of the bed, crammed into the top left corner, unmoving, with a gray tabby wrapped around his head. Having a bigger bed has allowed him to get decent sleep even when my active and vivid dreams have me flailing all over the other 80 percent.

Who would have thought that a king-sized bed STILL wouldn’t be sufficient to meet our sleeping needs? But toss in a kid or two now and then (along with a couple of cats) and we’re wishing we could have custom-ordered something bigger. A lot bigger.

Of course, the bed isn’t just for sleeping. (Get your mind out of the gutter, that’s none of your business.) No, I meant that the kids believe that our bed is a trampoline. Or a landing pad for a running leap. Or a wrestling ring. I guess, after all, it’s good that we haven’t invested more in it. I’m sure a couple of rowdy kids could destroy a two-thousand-dollar supreme-deluxe-extra-cushy pillow-top, memory-foam, you’ll-feel-like-you’re-on-a-cloud mattress just as easily as our bargain basement number. Maybe we’ll just wait until they move out before upgrading.


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