We’re Gonna Need a Bigger Boat

Actually, make that a bigger bed. Every night I crawl into my queen-size bed with a 90 pound dog, a 44 pound child and no less than 35 stuffed animals ranging in size from itty-bitty to “if I knew I’d be sleeping with it. Occasionally we are joined by a cat that doesn’t give a crap if I don’t want her sleeping on top of my legs and an additional 55 pound dog that is still bitter she lost her spot to the boy. I have about as much space as I would if I were sleeping on the head of a nail. It doesn’t help that I got so used to sleeping with a Snoogle when I was pregnant that I couldn’t give it up, so that takes up additional precious real-estate. I figure at this point I’ve got two options- throw everyone out or get a bigger bed.

While option one seems like the most reasonable and inexpensive option, there are several reasons that it’ll just never happen. First, no matter how many cool sets of sheets I get Jake, his twin bed is still as brand-spanking new as it was when we got it over six months ago. He has never slept in it. He watches TV in it occasionally, but he just can’t make that leap to sleeping alone again. He’s afraid of ghosts and monsters, and no amount of reasoning with him is going to change it.  I’ve tried everything from explaining that the dogs would eat the monsters to flat out telling him there is no such thing. I even lied and told him ghosts weren’t real. I know this is a lie because I’ve actually seen ghosts, not because I’m some sort of “I Want To Believe” type. But I figure a lengthy explanation about how ghosts actually work isn’t going to fix the problem. Unfortunately, lying didn’t either. He’s still in my bed and claims he’s sleeping there forever. I asked how his future wife would feel about that, and he replied that as long as she likes his stuffed animals, she can sleep with us too. Well I’m sure his future wife will love that!

I also have no hope of getting the 90 pound dog out of my bed. My other two dogs used to sleep with me too, but got pissed off when their spots were overtaken by a child and a slew of stuffed things that they’re not allowed to chew. So one moved upstairs with my mom and the other decided to settle for the couch most nights. Occasionally she tries to reclaim her spot by racing my son to the room, hopping in bed first and feigning deep sleep. Then she acts all put out when I tell her she has to move. She gives me the look that says “Hey, I called dibs on this spot long before you went and had that two-legged tormentor.” She does love my son, especially when he indulges her OCD fetching habit, but when it comes time for bed,she misses the days when she could breath in my face all night and kick me with her twitching dream legs. But the 90 pound boy doesn’t care if he has to share with off-limit “chew toys.” He staked out a spot at the foot of the bed and there he remains. Even when that spot is directly on top of my feet. He’s stubborn as an ox and flat out refuses to move until I decide to use him as a foot propper-upper. Then he grudgingly gives me an extra inch or so of space. I don’t even remember what it’s like to sleep with my legs completely stretched out.

The stuffed animals aren’t going anywhere either. In fact, they seem to multiply while we’re sleeping. Jake knows every last one that is there, and if I try to remove one, he’ll find it and put it back. Or he’ll become frantic. “Where is little bear! I can’t find him!  He’s my absolute favorite, we have to find him!!” Little bear is smaller than the palm of my hand, and is only Jake’s absolute favorite when he is missing.

Sadly, option two isn’t really an option at this time either. My room is too small for a king bed. Maybe when we move I’ll be able to get a bigger bed. Or maybe the excitement of a new room will entice Jake to move back to his own. Or maybe I’ll just have to get used to sleeping on the head of a nail.