I’m going to invite you into my bedroom today.
No, not like that, sicko. I just thought I’d talk about what it’s like to try sharing a bed with a pregnant lady.
And a dog.
And a cat that takes up more room than you’d think.
And the thing that’s become the bane of my existence—that damn pregnancy pillow.
See, a few weeks ago, I thought I’d be nice and buy Karli a pillow. I found a Boppy one on Amazon and she loves it. I, on the other hand, have found my already skimpy bed real estate diminishing with its presence.
We already had a crowded house with the dog and the cat. And, as you can see from my award-winning* art, the cat, despite being the smallest one in the house, takes up the most bed space. Which means my wife takes her half out of the middle. The dog stretches out to claim whatever space she can. That leaves me, the biggest, baddest sasquatch in town, hanging off a cliff like Sylvester Stallone in that one movie. You know…Stop or My Mom Will Shoot.
*Second place hand turkey, Mrs. Jennings’s second grade class
That graphic isn’t quite to scale. It probably overestimates the amount of space I get on a nightly basis. And I get especially careful these days with Squatch in bed, too. Even though the baby’s protected by all that amniotic fluid and a few of my wife’s vital organs, I’m still worried I’m gonna roll over and squash it. Turk and Gordie don’t seem to have a problem with it, though. Any space I don’t occupy, they’re more than happy to squeeze right in for a cuddle.
I have to be careful not to move my legs too much, or else Gordie’s been known to creep even farther up the bed. I’ve woken up several times to find myself curled in a ball with the dog taking up the lower half of the bed. And the cat squeezed in next to my chest.
Now, a couple weeks ago while I was in Chicago, I missed Karli. And Squatch. And the pets. But I had a queen bed all to myself. I slept diagonally on it (on top of the covers, of course, because I have a thing about hotel sheets) and it was glorious. Beautiful, beautiful space.
Long story short, Squatch will not be sleeping in the bed with us. It’s fine now while the little womb raider comes with its own sleeping quarters, but once it’s no longer swimming around like a goldfish—off to the Squatch Den!
And while I’m on the subject of our sleeping arrangements, I’m going to point out a couple things not in the graphic. Karli likes her humidifier. It makes me stuffy, but it helps her breathe. So where is it? Two feet from my head on my nightstand. She also likes to have a fan running while she sleeps because she has to have the noise. I’m cool without it. But where is that? Down by my feet.
Somehow I lost this battle without even knowing I was in a fight. Or, as I’m learning this phenomenon is more commonly known: Manhood.