December 1, 2010

Me, Jeremy, and our Queen-sized Bed

We don't get along.

Actually, we haven't gotten along in a while, but the relationship has become even more strained in the last two weeks.

See Exhibit A.

Our relationship started in Middle School. The bed was given as a gift along with a matching dresser. I loved the height of the bed; the size was perfect; it was made wonderfully. I knew I was fortunate.

And I was one.

Then, I married and became two.

During the first year of marriage, the bed was cozy and romantic.

During the second year, it was small.

During the third year, it was cramped and annoying.

During this pregnancy, it has been my biggest complaint, annoyance, frustration, and downfall. Our love relationship has turned into one that could closely resemble one of hate.

Because now I am three. Add a needy dog into the mix and we quickly become four.

Three people and a dog are not meant to fit into a queen-sized bed.

Especially us four.

Pregnancy has turned me into a human incubator. I produce more heat and sweat more than any human being should be allowed. Where I used to bundle up and ask Jeremy to hold me, I now have fans blowing on me and beg him to move at least a foot away. Combine this with his natural production of body heat and his need to snuggle whenever possible and you have a recipe for disaster. Add a queen-sized bed to the mix, an extra-large belly, pillows, and hormones... and well... we are just lucky that World War III hasn't broken out in our home.

We tried to persevere. I tried to share the bed; Jeremy tried not to touch me. But he couldn't. "Love" he said. Then he began to steal my pillows. "Sympathy pains." THEN he started to complain about how cold it was in our bedroom.And at that moment God saved him.

The time came for time to change. Now, it was getting darker earlier which somehow innately made Jeremy tired extra early. I'm talking about 8 p.m. early. And Jeremy, the sweetheart he is, won't go to bed without me and thus he would fall asleep on the couch. So, naturally, I quickly learned that I could stay up for another hour or two and then sneak to the bed ALONE.

It's like I'm back in Middle School and rediscovering the joy of a queen-sized bed for the first time. So now,  I'm nine months pregnant and sleeping pretty much through the whole night. It's awesome! Mind you, Jeremy quickly caught on to what I was doing, and I had to explain my reasoning. Trust me: me getting a full night's rest is not only for my benefit; it is for his too. I am not so nice when I don't get sleep. And we reached an agreement. I get a couple night's a week to myself and a couple of night's he joins me.

Plus, I may have told him that it's either this way or he's buying me a king-size bed immediately. One that requires a passport to go from one side to other side.

1 comment:

Dorothy Zimmerman Holliday said...

Jessica, That's too funny. I'm glad WWIII hasn't broken out either. Praying for little B to arrive safely!