weekend 3-way: bedmates

A few nights after Dad died, my sister Julie tearfully informed me that Mom was now sleeping on Dad’s side of the bed. How sweet, we thought. She misses him so much, and wants to be close to the place he so suddenly left vacant. I asked Mom a few days ago whether or not she was still sleeping in Dad’s spot, and she said: "Well, sort of... but I’ve got to tell you, he was a total bed hog." Turns out that for the past 51 years, my Dad had slept sort of diagonally across the middle of their double bed, leaving mom to a wee crack on the edge! It goes without saying that she would give anything to be back in that precarious position on the edge of a shared bed, but of course that is not possible, so Mom is reluctantly enjoying - under protest with the universe - the space to spread out a little bit while she sleeps.

In the next room, we’ve got these two knuckleheads

I feel sorry for their future spouses, because they are terrible bedmates. We’ve played musical beds around here for the last three weeks, the sleeping arrangements negotiated according to the number of people staying each night. I’ve had the misfortune pleasure of sharing a bed with each of my children on one bed/air mattress/sofa or another during this time, and have been head butted, kicked, pushed, poked, prodded, and awakened by soliloquies, shouts, giggles, and grunts.

So, my lovely co-bloggers, the question for this weekend’s 3-way is:

How do you sleep with your bedmate?

Keep it clean, kids.

Jacquie:

Aw, Bill. I miss him, I do. He’s not the world’s best bedmate, though. He does this thing where he jerks and twitches, mostly in that space between light and deep sleep, I think. Unfortunately, that time tends to correspond with the space between my own awake and asleep states, resulting in a terrible cycle of fits and starts before either of us can get ourselves to sleep. Bill will deny this entire phenomenon, and gets really irritated when I smack nudge him to please cease the twitching. But I love him, and I miss him, so I’m not even going to mention the grinding of teeth or snoring or blanket stealing. Don't get too comfortable on my side of the bed, honey!

Ellie:

Aw Jacquie. I love this. Poor ol' Mom, sleeping with a bedhog for 51 years.

My husband is a total bed hog, too. And noisy. I've actually written a song about all the noises Billy makes in various states of sleep and waking, but he'd kill me if I share it. (I do love to sing it, though; remind me to next time I see you.)

The only other person I've slept with lately is Jacquie, just the other night, during one of the musical beds nights at Mom's (sigh). Before we went to sleep I was extolling to her the virtues of my sleepedness -- I never writhe around, I stay in the same spot all night, I'm quiet and calm and take up less space in the bed than is actually physically possible.

What I forgot about, though, is this nagging, nasty sinus congestion I've had for a week or two. Here I was, all smug in the knowledge that Jacquie would finally have a good night's sleep without one of her kids kicking her. When we woke up, though, Jacquie said, "Dude! You snored all night!"

Maybe somebody should write a song about me.

Beth:

Sorry to be late to the party. I didn't get a good night's sleep. lol. My husband is a lovely man, but not easy to sleep with (I'm sensing a theme here). I, like Ellie, sleep in one, teeny, tiny spot all night long, way over on the edge of the bed. My edge of the bed.

My husband? Not so much. He does the same twitching as Bill, sometime for hours, or so it seems. We refer to it as the Jimmy leg, although I should probably set it to music -- good idea, Ellie! He also steals covers and insists on exposing our feet while we sleep, which I DO NOT like.

In addition, he insists on either high wind or AC, both of which I loath (except for those last two weeks in late August). Can't we just get a white noise machine, I plead? I'm so sick of having dry eyes and a sore throat...

I'm convinced that on some more advanced planet married people sleep in separate beds. It would no doubt account on their advancement. Good rest is everything. Well almost.