Twas Brillig

I can barely recall when I was very little and my parents actually shared a bed. It was a giant king size bed that we all loved to jump on.

But soon they went to separate beds. Twin beds, scooted right next to each other. That way, each could feel free to toss and turn without fearing waking up the other or having their blanket stolen.

My mother had her own room right next to mine–a study, where her computer and books and endless piles of professor-stuff all lived. At some point, a bed was put in there. And then, slowly but surely, her clothing and other personal items began to migrate there. Eventually she just began sleeping there full time.

I never worried that my parents had stopped liking each other or anything like that. Believe me, there was no mistaking their mutual adoration. But my dad liked to stay up late watching TV and sleep in in the morning while my mom liked to go to bed while the sun was still up and wake up long before the sun rose in the morning. Plus, Dad snored, and Mom had to pee twelve or thirteen times a night (okay, that’s possibly a slight exaggeration, but still…) so the separate bedrooms thing really worked for them.

I understood why they did that, but I thought, “man, when I’m married, I’ll want to snuggle next to my husband all night long. No WAY would I want separate beds, let alone separate bedrooms!”

When Hubby and I were first married, we went to an out-of-town family reunion and stayed in a hotel. Hubby’s sister and her husband, who’d been married for nearly ten years, were in the room next to us. Each room had two queen beds. Hubby and I put our luggage on one, and slept together in the other. So we were FLABBERGASTED to see that Hubby’s sis and her husband decided to each sleep in their own beds. Hubby made a comment, poking fun at them, and they both exclaimed over how wonderful it was to spread out and have their own beds!

Anyway, the years have gone by and I love Hubby even more than ever, but I also enjoy spreading out in a big bed all by myself. I certainly don’t sleep snuggled up next to Hubby when we’re in the same bed, the way I’d romanticized things as a teen. No–we each claim a side and once it’s time to sleep, no one crosses the imaginary line between us.

But this last week (as I have mentioned ad nauseum) I’ve been sick. I keep us both awake all night with my constant coughing and puking and tossing and turning. So I’ve sent him to the guest room so that he can get some semblance of sleep before he has to show up at work in the morning (he gets the guest room because he thinks the mattress in there is more comfortable, not because I’ve banished him there against his will or anything…)

And guess what? We’re enjoying it. LOVING it, in fact. I see, talk, play, and snuggle with him all I want to, but then at bedtime we go our separate ways. Right now, we’re just doing it because I’m sick. But once I’m better, will we go back to the old way? I don’t know! I really think that separate bedrooms means more freedom with my time (and my overhead light and TV remote) and we both get a better night’s sleep, and our relationship doesn’t suffer–in fact, it may even benefit from it.

So, Mom. Dad. Sorry I laughed at you. I get it now. I really do!