27 March 2010

Bed Hog

So it's no surprise that when you get married there's some adjusting when it comes to the way you sleep. Overnight you not only are married but you have to share a bed with someone else. Someone who snores.

And smells.
And is bigger than you.
And takes up all the bed.
And is a boy.
The injustices just keep adding up.

But somewhere in the span of time that is a marriage you learn to cope and overcome these obstacles. Your husband might get diagnosed with sleep apnea and then start wearing a CPap at night which kinda eliminates the snoring. Check. You draw an invisible line in the mattress and if one crosses that line the other has complete person to shove, kick, or poke the offender until the offending parts are restored to their side. Check. You can't really do much about being bigger or being a boy so we'll just leave those items shelved for now.

Then this funny thing happens. One of the mates gets a job that requires them to work at night so that the other partner is left alone.
To sleep alone.
To have the entire bed to themselves.
To pick up all those alone-sleeping habits.

And then we have to start at square one all over again.

Apparently when one's wife goes to work at night and one's husband goes to sleep by himself, he invites the dogs into bed with him. And then when one's wife has the night off and tries to go to bed with said husband, the aforementioned dogs get very protective of their new found soft, cushy, plush bed. And then all hell breaks loose.

That's right. Not only am I having to reclaim MY spot on the bed; I am having to fight with two 80 pound creatures that don't speak human let alone English and barely lift their heads up to acknowledge that I am, in fact there and would like to get in bed. And then that dear husband of mine just lifts the covers, slides into bed on his side, you know since the monsters that are my dogs are on MY side and thus cause no problem for that charmer known as Stuart to enter into the bed. And after 10 minutes of trying to be nice and gently push the dogs off the bed, I finally have to give up and use my mean mommy voice which elicits growling and baring of teeth and then all I want to do is jump up and down, put marshmallows in my mouth and start spewing whiteness across the room in hopes that someone will notice that I need help and someone will remember that I am home and do in fact need to get into the bed.

Finally after huffing and puffing and blowing my dogs down, I get into bed.

Guess who's crossed the invisible line?

Me: Move over!
Stuart: Huh?
Me: Move over, please. You're in the middle of the bed.
Stuart: Oh, I forgot that you were home tonight.

That's right. He forgot I was home.


Aubrey said...

Oh Clarissa, I feel your pain. Your stories never fail to make me laugh, although I know your suffering is not funny. I totally feel you. When I read your posts it's like you and I are one. Maybe you and I should move in together and leave our men to snore and steal bed space together.