The Rotating Bed
March 5, 2007
We have rotating beds. Sounds sexy, doesn't it? Well, sexy circa 1974, but sexy nonetheless. But actually, there is nothing sultry about our rotating beds. Nothing at all. Not even a little bit. My mother coined the term "rotating beds" when she was visiting us last. Big Daddy and I were discussing who was going to sleep where and with whom on that particular evening and my mother laughed, "You guys and your rotating beds!" I was horrified. Horrified that she was, in fact, correct. I had been in complete denial that we hardly ever sleep in the same bed twice, around here. We DID have rotating beds. Not the Austin Powers "do I make you horny?" circular revolving bed, more like sleepy-time musical chairs.
At bedtime, our house is kind of like the game "Clue." "It's Daddy, in Max's room, on the floor," or "Mommy, in the office, on the couch." A favorite of everyone's seems to me "Max in Mommy and Daddy's room, in between Mommy and Daddy." Poor Vivien, being crib-bound, stays the same each night, "Fifi LaRue, in her crib, sleeping like an angel-baby." Hence, the revolving bed.
You LITERALLY (or as Madonna would say with her faux British accent "LIT'RALLY) do not know who you are sleeping with on any given night. Sounds sexy again, doesn't it? But trust me, ain't nothing sexy about being wedged in between two obese cats, a toddler and a snoring adult (no offense Andrew.)
This phenomenon happens so frequently in our home, that we no longer use the phrase "rotating beds," rather we have dropped the "s" thus changing the adjective to an entity…The Rotating Bed. We could discuss "The Rotating Bed" theory. Or "The Rotating Bed" experience or, still better, "The Rotating Bed" experiment. "Well take 2 seemingly normal, functional adults and then throw them into the water with sharks---er---um---into the night with a very snuggly, lovable 4 year old who loves his Mama…" That's right, people. At my house, there's no sleep till Brooklyn.
What happens is…Max will wake up in the middle of the night and decide to come down stairs to our bedroom. He has to walk down a hallway, go down some stairs to a landing, go down some more stairs to the first floor, turn 180 degrees, go down another hallway, turn right and enter our room. It's kind of a trek for a little kid in the middle of the night, I guess. He'll get into bed, but them I am wide awake wondering if he's ok, sick, etc. Andrew will start snoring (again, no offense) and either I'll "boot" him out, as we call it ("I can't believe I got booted last night") or I'll move and go sleep on the couch in the office, where I can close the door and relax. Occasionally we'll "trade" with Max when he comes down; one of us will go up to his bed to sleep. Sometimes, if Max is sick, Andrew will sleep in Max's room with him. Sometimes Max falls asleep in the office, wanting then to be carried to his bed. There is also a Queen sized bed in the guest room and a pull out couch in the playroom. Do the math.
I know that some of you have expressed an interest in visiting. Just keep in mind that, although we have a perfectly wonderful guest room, complete with its own full bath, you may end up "sleeping" with one of us. Or Max . Or Vivien . And you may end up in some random bed. And you can count on the cats, for sure.
