This is a story about a bed. But it starts with the worst night sleep of my life (second to the night before we left Spain from Barcelona where we stayed in a hostel with 5 Japanese tourists who didn’t realize turning the lights on, chatting and digging through luggage for hours after 12 am while others are in bed is not acceptable behavior.) But back to the more recent night of sleep:
This past weekend Andy and I met up with a majority of my mom’s side of the family at a family friend’s beach house in Newport, OR. Night one was uneventful as I slept alone on the twin size hide-a-bed like a baby, completely worn out from a long day. Night two however, was a monster of a night.
I spent the day chasing my five young cousins around the house and beach. The weather was relatively warm and the beach was pleasant. Andy arrived in the afternoon after his last Saturday of work. We ate homemade strawberry jam, fresh picked blueberries and snack food upon snack food. By all estimations, I should have slept like a tiny baby. Instead, I finally came to understand the struggle Andy has been having sleeping. To fill you in: For the past few months, Andy has complained of tossing and turning and not sleeping well. He complained of waking up multiple times a night to roll over and get comfortable. I always found it difficult to understand this as I have never had problems sleeping. In fact, when I was a kid I slept through fire alarms in my own house for goodness sake. So I had no way to relate to Andy’s plight. We also sleep in a full bed at home, which is just big enough to let me pass out in peace and not be disrupted by Andy’s meandering nighttime follies. However, the beach house’s twin bed did not afford such luxury. And we’ve had our experiences with twin beds; Andy and I started dating when I was 18 and we were both living in the dorms.
On the fateful night in question, I finally exited the twin bed after an epic battle with Andy’s shoulders, arms and legs. He was continually in motion and continually poking the hell out of me. I couldn’t sleep at all. At one point, I was under Andy’s shoulder and legs and was having a bit of a problem breathing. By 3 am, I gave up on the bed. I had nowhere to go but the couch in the living room so I stumbled into the bathroom to grab a couple towels to curl up under. In my sleepy haze, I settled into the couch and realized slowly that the towels were both wet and sandy. Ugh. Moments later, a strange girly moaning noise came from the upstairs of the house. I sat up, alarmed. I heard a loud and long exclamation, “What baaabe?” I cringed. It turns out that my cousin’s fiancee sleep talks and they were both sleeping in the loft above me. A few minutes later she exclaimed excitedly, “OK!”
I was done. I threw the towels onto the couch and walked back into the room Andy and I were sharing. He was sleeping soundly in the very center of the bed. His head was on his pillow and the blankets were wrapped around him in a perfect oval. He looked so very peaceful and I was so very filled with frustration at that point, I got in the bed with a loud sigh and elbowed him over so I could curl up on the edge. I pulled the blankets away from him while trying to warm up after getting damp from the stupid towels. When my dad came downstairs to make his coffee at 7am, I snatched my pillow and ran up into my parent’s unoccupied bedroom and peacefully dozed on their king-sized bed until Andy came up at 9am and asked, confused, “What are you doing up here babe?” I grunted and looked at him through crusty eyes. And I proceeded to tell my sleepless story of woe. He looked at me, eyebrows raised and smiled. It was one of those smiles I recognize, the “I’m putting up with you because you are silly” smile. I love and hate that particular smile. He patiently explained to me that is his night every night. I felt only slightly guilty. And thus I began my search for a new bed for Andy and Jessica. Hopefully one that leads to sleep filled nights. Something bigger and cushier. Definitely not one that includes a loft with sleep talkers. And I made Andy promise that he’ll talk to the doctor about sleeping. I think this bed from Good Hotel in CA is a dandy and I love the built in nightstands and underbed storage (so clever):
So mom, if you’re reading this, feel free to buy us the queen size for Christmas. XOXO,