Twin

I've hit upon (okay, so it wasn't my idea, but I'm running with it) quite possibly the last idea of them all, to get Fox to sleep in his own room, his own bed, all by himself. Yes, I am well aware that several folks' kids still sleep with them; that there is that theory that all kids grow emotionally at their own pace....he'll sleep alone before college....but quite frankly? Since he damn near outweighs me, and is nearly my height, kicks like a mule and is a bed hog?

I've had it.

If anyone is going to hog the bed, the covers, the sheets, kick someone so hard they fall out of bed? It's going to be me. Thus, I've (I'm still in shock I'm shuddering) taken all temptation of my ultra fabulous so comfortable I can hardly get out of real live Temperpedic bed, placed it lovingly in the basement, only to install a (gasp) twin bed in my room.

The room, on the upside, looks a good deal more spacious than before.

The downside?

It's a twin bed. I've not slept in one of these since college, or perhaps on a stay somewhere with some family, who only had a twin for company; when this occurred yesterday, I took to aping that stupid Spongebob episode, where he stayed at work...at night.... you know the one:

Look at me, I'm laying.....in a twin bed.

This is me, reading...in a twin bed.

This is me not having sex....in a twin bed.

Look at me, recovering from jaw surgery....in a twin bed.

This is me bitching....in a twin bed.

I hit my head on the flipping headboard thing (I've not had a headboard in YEARS) last night; my feet hit the footboard, and regardless of how much Fucker Up and Shoot Me adores her own bed, when it's snuggled in her kennel, she absolutely refuses to sleep on the damn thing when it's next to my twin bed, deciding instead, there is plenty of room for us both.

There. Is. Not.

Fox came in three times last night, to be re-tucked in; he wanted to build a nest on the floor - all my fabulous nesting material now locked away, up high in a closet, forlornly sending me nasty looks when I go to get dressed. I feel its pain, really, I do. I don't enjoy sleeping under blankets meant for an 8 year old. There are dolphins staring at me on these sheets - while I may have been okay with fish staring at me in highschool? I find it downright creepy now. I'm so going to buy over the top girly sheets, with some ridiculously pink froth of a blanket, so that for the next year or so, I'll try to enjoy sleeping on a twin bed.

I'm finding imagining that a bit of a stretch too. Work with me here.

Sure, there's room for that cutie rug that didn't fit in here with my California King; and perhaps, another dresser, should I find a way to get the blasted heavy bitch downstairs - perhaps, I'll even figure out how to invest in cheap under the bed storage solutions. My bed, is after all, finally, off the floor.

But. It's. A. Twin.

I put a totally positive spin on it for Fox; he thinks it's a great idea. That whole No Room At The Inn thing, forces him to find alternate sleeping locales. Hell, at this point, he could sleep in the oversize tub for all I care. So long as he's no longer draped over me, with my 2:30am clenched teeth caterwaul Get OFF Me, I suppose, the ends do indeed justify the means.

Now I just need to deal with my twin sleeping issues: Fox, and Pucker Up. She will learn to sleep on the floor, on a bed of her own, with a blanket of her own, as her sleeping either between my legs, or, last night's unsuccessful sleeping attempt - on my back - are drawing to a rapid close.

I'm rather hoping the two of them sleep together upstairs - this is, after all, the vision I had when I got the damn dog: small child, small dog, nestled together in bed, snoring....I did not envision them nestled together, snoring, in my bed.

I hope to God, we're moving in the right direction. I'm praying for a long overdue bedtime miracle, Virginia Wolfe style....

A Bed of One's Own.

Even if the damn thing's a twin.