The night we divided the bed

While we were in Ethiopia, we got into a conversation one night about co-sleeping and adoption.  One of the things we learned in our adoption process was that many of the kids would be used to having shared a bed before coming home and that transitioning to sleeping alone might be difficult.   During an attachment teleconference, the adoptive families dialed in were encouraged to think about co-sleeping in some way.  Now, back to Ethiopia where we were out to dinner– all the families with our agency who were traveling that week- and we got on the subject of sharing beds and one of the parents talked about how much they loved having their own bed which got us into a funny conversation about sleep habits and idiosyncracies, etc which reminded me of the funniest sleep story I have in my pocket.  So here we go. 

When I was a single girl, I loved sleeping diagnolly in my bed.  So, needless to say, when I married BF, I had to learn how to sleep straight in the bed.  I did it, but when BF inched into my half of the bed, I’d protest.  One night, BF was allover my side of the bed, and I protested like I always had. 

“No, I am not!” He insisted. 

“Yes, you are!”  I replied, allowing the fight to go down the He Said, She Said territory of our infamous cupcake squabble. 

“I’m not,” he started to lightly snore again, and I wasn’t having it so I turned on my bedside table lamp to prove my point. 

Without any line of demarcation on our headboard that showed what the middle point was, there was no way to tell who the winner of this debate was. 

“You are being ridiculous,” BF told me and then tried to hug me which would be great with him because it meant that he got even more of the real estate on my side of the bed.   

“Oh no, you don’t.” 

“What,” BF asked, feigning innocence and getting even more cozy on my side of the bed. 

And then we were both up, running to the kitchen to get a tape measure, masking tape, and a pencil.  Back in the bedroom, both of us self-righteous, we measured the bed, marked the half-way point, and then got out the masking tape and put a line of tape from our headboard to our foot board to make our point to the other.   Satisfied that the line of demarcation was clearly established, we turned off our lights and settled into our bed, silent, until we both erupted in laughter. 

On that note, BF says he feels like he is my Marley (ala Marley and Me).  One of my girlfriends told me that if BF made us the type of money that Marley made John Grogan, BF would get over being my Marley really fast— especially if he got to pick Brad Pitt to play him in the movie.