Cama Matrimonial

I’ve griped in the past about sharing a bed (main issues: waking up to an egregious lack of blanket coverage, waking up to bed partner’s twitching, staying awake due to fear of my own twitching/violent sleep-kicking waking him up).   Well, sleep interruption and anxiety has gotten the best of me, and I’ve taken to sleeping  on our very comfortable living room couch.  No, neither of us is in the doghouse.  This is entirely for the sake of a good night’s sleep. And while it pains me to not be making use of an incredily comfortable *king-size* bed with amazingly soft super-pricey wedding-present-sheets, I’ve tried sleeping there and it just does not work.   

Sadly, after a week of blissful couch sleep (I can toss and turn as much as I want!  I can stay up late – i.e. 11pm – reading!  I can get up to use the bathroom without having to tiptoe back to bed!  And my favorite sleep move, I can mummify myself with the covers!) the magic is starting to wear off.  Last night, even though I’d made up my couch-bed with super cozy flannel sheets, I kept waking up at the slightest noise, convinced that someone was going to come in the front door, which is right across from the couch.  Lamely, I’ve been a little jumpy since the whole Panama incident.  Yeah, I’m a bit delicate, and paranoid.

So I crawled back into the *real* bed around 5am, hoping the relative comfort of an actual mattress would be enough to send me off to dreamland.  No such luck.  I can’t seem to get comfortable unless I have covers wrapped around me on all sides.  When you have two people occupying a bed, this is hard to achieve.  There just aren’t enough covers to go around.  I keep fantasizing about inventing a sheets/comforter set that velcros to the mattress to ensure equitable comforter coverage.  Or maybe we could try using two sets of twin top sheets and twin-size comforters, so that each of us could burrow and wrap ourselves in covers as much as we pleased.  These are the things I fantasize about when I’m lying in bed, wide awake.

Birthday Love

Today is my husband’s 32nd birthday, and since he’s not much of an early breakfast eater, and since I wasn’t going to work today, we had an 11:30am birthday breakfast (he usually comes home during his conference period). I’ve gotta say, I’ve got eggs and pancakes down, and I’m getting pretty good at bacon (though I won’t eat it).

Berry/banana whole wheat pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon (for those who like it).

One of his presents was a t-shirt with this graphic on it that I designed using Picnik and printed through CafePress. He and our dog Maude have a very special kind of love. I was inspired by the “I hella (heart) Oakland” t-shirts that are so popular around here:

Failing at Life? Have a Baby.

A friend called last night – one whom I’d met in a study abroad program in Ghana, and with whom I’d later traveled through Northern Asia. She told me she had just become an RN and was starting a new year of school in order to become a nurse practitioner. She related how in the two days between when she sat for the grueling nursing licensure exam and when she found out the results, she felt a strong and sudden urge to “just have a baby.” She was convinced she wouldn’t pass, and sensing an impending life obstacle, she earnestly felt for a few days that the best remedy for being stalled in her career would be to start a family.

In my family, there is next to zero pressure to have kids, for now at least. I’m the younger sibling by five years, and my parents were surprised when I became engaged as soon as I did (after only three and-a-half years of dating!) I know a lot of newlyweds get the baby question immediately after getting married, but no one has really mentioned it to me, except for my boss, who jokingly advised me to ‘wait a long time to have kids’ (he would know – he has three).

Babies sure are cute and I think I want one or more someday, but until that day comes (when I’m 30? 32?) I will fiercely guard my freedom, my self-centeredness and my nights of unbroken sleep. Neither my husband nor I have jobs that could support a family on a single income. The way things are right now, both of us definitely need to work to keep up with our rent and pay off loans. It is nearly inconceivable to think of a third (very demanding) mouth to feed.

Yet as I face a time of personal disillusionment with the work world and indecisiveness about whether to go to school, stay at my job, or pursue another field, having a baby now versus later almost seems to make sense. Especially when a friend in my book club has the most adorable six-month-old son ever, and as I read about amazing mothers such as these, who make motherhood look both heroic and like a completely worthy cause to which to devote one’s life. As odd as it may seem, I sometimes long to go back to the days where women were “just” supposed to run the house and raise kids, while men brought home the paycheck. I realize that motherhood is in many ways a bigger job than simply clocking 40 hours per week in an office, but sometimes it just seems so much more natural than trying to shoehorn myself into career paths that don’t seem to fit me.

Some friends of my husband’s recently had a baby. Their timing had something to do with the fact that the mother wasn’t having luck finding work in the tight job market where they had just moved. Of course, she’s in her early thirties so there was less of a luxurious timeframe within which to work. I would consider doing the same, except for the above-stated financial and selfish concerns, and also because I know I need to make better sense of this career dilemma and figuring out my place in the world before I decide to bring another being into it.

I was telling an acquaintance at a party about my listlessness when it comes to thinking about the future. “Well, you could always have a baby,” she replied cheerfully. It’s true, I could. I’m married now and am certainly no longer ‘too young’ to start popping them out. However I don’t want to have a child just because it’s something to do. I want to really, *really* want one. I just hope that my desire, my financial situation and my biology can conspire to make it all possible within the next nine or so years. If there was just some way to speed up this whole mid-twenties self-discovery process, I’d be all set.

Tired

Sometimes sharing a bed can mean that if one person isn’t sleeping well, neither will get a good night’s rest. Did anyone else read this BBC article about bed sharing and male “brain drain?” I wonder if it applies to women too, because on days when I have spent the previous night tossing, turning and vying for my share of covers (I swear, though he would deny it, they seem to end up covering only a quarter of my body, after being kicked down to the end of the bed and pulled over to his side) I feel like I may as well call in sick. My mind is unable to focus on simple tasks for very long, reserving its energy for strategizing about locating the next caffeine source or snack. No wonder sleep disorders have been linked to obesity.

I think when my husband and I move to a bigger place (greater power willing), we might invest in an extra bed. Not for every single night, but for those nights when one of us really needs their (separate) rest. Any other married couples out there on the internetz contemplating separate beds, for the sake of a good night’s sleep?