Tight quarters

We've had guests for weeks and though there is nothing personal, I look forward to the return of my space and the spaces of the people.  Lily and Virginie are this week sleeping in the bedroom with Didier and me as every occupyable space is indeed occupied.  On the first, foolishly unplanned evening, I thought we might all sleep in our king-sized bed.  We've surely done it many times before, but usually as a "staggering, almost six year old, after night time potty break wandering into the room" followed by "wailing three year old bolting upright alone in the bed, come and get me and let me in with you" kind of way.  No, the first evening, I tucked the girls into our bed, told them that Mommy and Papa would be in shortly, and closed the door on the sleeping cherubs.  When the hubby and I retired for the evening we found that those tiny people had morphed into life sized X marks that left only slits and slivers of sleeping space for the two adult sized folks.  I put six pillows on the floor and fancied a mattress.  When I say fancied I really mean that with no cushion or comfort whatsoever, I put my 40-something ass on the hardwood floor and tried to go to sleep.  There was no success that night and my neck, back, and hip still hurt.

My friend and neighbor has since loaned us an Aero bed.  I received it with delight, enthusiasm, and hope.  Easy enough for a completely untech savvy person like myself to inflate, that floating paradise on the floor next to our bed looked exciting enough for the girls to declare every night Aero bed night.  Yay.  But that was until it was actually time to go to bed.  At bedtime they were eager to jump on it to catapult themselves onto our bed (which I did not let them do, the catapulting I mean).  So I let them start out in our bed and vowed silently to move them in the middle of the night.  And I did, easily, then passed out in the incredibly comfortable bed in which I have slept too little. 

I was thrown from the bed, actually shot to the ceiling at the shrieking three year old on the floor mattress who declared herself hungry and asked me to go make her a hot dog at 3 am.  All the energy in the room woke the almost six year old who immediately climbed into our bed with her Papa.  I went to the kitchen to get a bag of honey wheat pretzels, as I had no intentions of cooking a hot dog, and got onto the air mattress with the three year old with the middle night munchies.  I spent another night contorted and twisted.  My knee is giving out a little when I walk.

Last night I had the pleasure of both girls waking some time around 3 or 4 am and fighting over whose side it indeed was where they were snuggled in our bed, so I forced them both to get off said bed and go to the mattress.  Both began to wail (awesome) so I told Lily to shut it and got down onto the mattress with her and cuddled her, laying kisses at her ear.  Just as we were both drifting, Virginie slid down from the master bed onto the mattress with us.  "I want to be with you, Mommy."  Yay.  With Lily pressed against me at the front and Virginie wedged behind me at the back, I felt as though I were sleeping in a human body cast, completely unable to take full breaths and when attempting even the slightest movement getting a mouthful of hair or a knee to the stomach.  I woke at 7 am not sure I'd actually slept.

We've four more days living our lives in one room.  The novelty has worn off even for the girls and though they love their guests, they long for their own bed, their own room, their own things.  Sneaking into Mommy and Papa's bed is only fun when you get to do it on your own terms, not when forced to stay.  We are all weary and stretched thin by our tight quarters, some of us a little too old, and some a little too young to be as flexible as we might be.  While I rarely spend a full night in my own bed, often making a space in the girls' bed to cuddle up with those wiggly yummies, I look forward to even the idea of my own space again.


(c) Repatriated Mama: Back to the Suburban Grind, 2012.