The Not So Burning Bed…
Lately I’ve been noticing a certain shift in the balance of power in my household. At first It presented it self subtly but it’s gotten quite out of hand as of late. I hate to admit it but I feel like I’m starting to lose control. I am 100% aware that the odds are stacked against me. I am also obviously cognizant of the fact that I am Out-Numbered in more ways than one. I’m ok with all of this. I am at peace with it. I’m playing the hand that I’ve been dealt so to speak. But there are certain atrocities that have been committed. There are certain liberties that have been taken. I like to refer to them as crimes of war. I must draw the line in the sand or lose what little freedom I have left. I must defend my dignity. I must dig the proverbial mote around my castle before it’s too late. I must…
GET MY FUCKING KIDS OUT OF OUR BED!!!
That’s right. You heard me. Those cute, little, happy-go-lucky, miniature, monsters have taken over the last place in our home or in our marriage for that matter that is still sacred. I’ve never been one of those parents that claim to know everything about child rearing. Apart from the very questionable credibility I receive from writing this blog, I’m not sure why I’m still being asked to contribute to various parenting websites. I certainly have never been one to pass judgement on another couple’s style of parenting. I will admit that I’ve always been quietly skeptical of the merits that one would find in allowing your children to share your bed. You hear about it all the time. Everyone knows a family that let’s their children sleep with them. Usually it starts out when they are very young, most probably because of the convenience of close proximity while in the breast-feeding stage. I can see why this would make sense early on but I would imagine it could get downright maddening and uncomfortable, as they grow older and larger. Through the years it never seems to change and there is always some justification to make it seem acceptable. I’ve heard parents say that they don’t even realize when their kid climbs into bed with them in the middle of the night or that they let them come in only if they have a bad dream and can’t fall back asleep. My personal favorite is, we only let our child sleep in our bed on the weekend. On the weekend? Are you on kiddie crack? I’ll be the first one to admit that my wife and I aren’t exactly swingers. We certainly aren’t doing Mickey Rourke / Kim Basinger type shit. We don’t even have a sex swing. But the weekend? I’m of the Lionel Ritchie school of thought. If my wife and I didn’t have Sunday morning, we wouldn’t have any kids. That’s why I’m easy. It’s like sexual Tivo. Set it up in my favorites and let it go. This is why I never thought it would happen to me. I still until this very moment have been in complete denial.
I’m a firm believer in the philosophy of: if you give an inch, they will take a mile. Here is the back-story. I’m sort of a closet neat freak. I know it drives my wife crazy at times but I can’t help it. I’m constantly picking shit up around the house. I have a very special relationship with my Shark Electric Broom. I make all kinds of rules about not eating in the den and no Play-Doh in the living room. No one in my household gives a crap and no one listens to me and I’m cool with that. I’m just the idiot Dad that walks around the house in his underwear mumbling crazy person talk under his breath. As a matter of fact I’m pretty sure my daughters mock me when I leave the room. The point is that there comes a time when a man has to stand his ground. I can trace the origin of this current situation back about three months ago. I was lying in our bed trying to fall asleep and I felt itchy for some reason. I tossed and turned a bit and then felt some hard granular type of particles beneath me. At first I thought it was sand but then I realized that we hadn’t been to the beach in about seven years. I rolled over and turned on the lamp next to my bed. I knew right then and there that it was a Code Red.
Out-Numbered - “God damn it!”
My wife woke up startled.
Wife – “What is it? What’s the matter?”
Out-Numbered – “What did you do?”
Wife – “What are you talking about? I was sleeping.”
Out-Numbered – “That’s not what I meant. Don’t play dumb.”
Wife – “Are you out of your mind? Go back to sleep.”
Out-Numbered – “There’s been a major breach in security. I’m not messing around?”
Wife – “Get to the point before I breach your face.”
Out-Numbered – “Huh?”
Wife – “WHAT DO YOU WANT?”
Out-Numbered – “Oh, right… Do you mind telling me what this is in our bed?”
Wife – “It looks like Goldfish crumbs, why?”
Out-Numbered – “Goldfish crumbs? WHY? Have you any idea what this means?”
Wife – “It means our kids were eating Goldfish in our bed dumb ass. Now go back to bed.”
Out-Numbered – “Oh boy. I’m telling you, this isn’t good. No sir…”
What my wife doesn’t understand is that kids are like wild animals. They are very territorial. When you break it down to core fundamental instincts, there isn’t a hell of a lot of differences between my two daughters and a pack of savage coyotes. If it weren’t for the smell of Aveeno baby wash on my kids I would barely be able to tell them apart from the dogs. It’s amazing how much whining can sound like howling when it hits a certain pitch. Instead of pissing on my bed to mark their territory, they leave Goldfish crumbs. You think it sounds crazy? Not really. Once you let them in, you’re fucked. When I found those Goldfish crumbs I knew it was already too late. My poor wife never saw it coming.
Three months later, my kids are still leaving their droppings all over my bed. Goldfish crumbs, Oreos, cheese crackers, you name it. It’s like a freakin picnic in there. When Bon Jovi wrote the lyrics to the song, “Bed of Roses” I’m pretty sure his first draft was:
I wanna lay you down in a bed of Oreos
For tonight I’ll sleep on a bed of Goldfish crackers
I wanna be just as close as your Holy Ghost is
And lay you down in a bed of Oreos.
But the record label told him that shit wouldn’t fly on radio so he changed it.
About two weeks ago my youngest daughter started to insist that in lieu of napping in her crib she would rather nap in our bed. First sign of the apocalypse.
Wouldn’t you know it, about a week ago my oldest daughter started coming into our bed in the middle of the night? She says she’s been having bad dreams and she doesn’t want to sleep alone. Total Armageddon.
Cue the Aerosmith. I bet Bruce Willis was never this Out-Numbered…
GET MY FUCKING KIDS OUT OF OUR BED!!!
That’s right. You heard me. Those cute, little, happy-go-lucky, miniature, monsters have taken over the last place in our home or in our marriage for that matter that is still sacred. I’ve never been one of those parents that claim to know everything about child rearing. Apart from the very questionable credibility I receive from writing this blog, I’m not sure why I’m still being asked to contribute to various parenting websites. I certainly have never been one to pass judgement on another couple’s style of parenting. I will admit that I’ve always been quietly skeptical of the merits that one would find in allowing your children to share your bed. You hear about it all the time. Everyone knows a family that let’s their children sleep with them. Usually it starts out when they are very young, most probably because of the convenience of close proximity while in the breast-feeding stage. I can see why this would make sense early on but I would imagine it could get downright maddening and uncomfortable, as they grow older and larger. Through the years it never seems to change and there is always some justification to make it seem acceptable. I’ve heard parents say that they don’t even realize when their kid climbs into bed with them in the middle of the night or that they let them come in only if they have a bad dream and can’t fall back asleep. My personal favorite is, we only let our child sleep in our bed on the weekend. On the weekend? Are you on kiddie crack? I’ll be the first one to admit that my wife and I aren’t exactly swingers. We certainly aren’t doing Mickey Rourke / Kim Basinger type shit. We don’t even have a sex swing. But the weekend? I’m of the Lionel Ritchie school of thought. If my wife and I didn’t have Sunday morning, we wouldn’t have any kids. That’s why I’m easy. It’s like sexual Tivo. Set it up in my favorites and let it go. This is why I never thought it would happen to me. I still until this very moment have been in complete denial.
I’m a firm believer in the philosophy of: if you give an inch, they will take a mile. Here is the back-story. I’m sort of a closet neat freak. I know it drives my wife crazy at times but I can’t help it. I’m constantly picking shit up around the house. I have a very special relationship with my Shark Electric Broom. I make all kinds of rules about not eating in the den and no Play-Doh in the living room. No one in my household gives a crap and no one listens to me and I’m cool with that. I’m just the idiot Dad that walks around the house in his underwear mumbling crazy person talk under his breath. As a matter of fact I’m pretty sure my daughters mock me when I leave the room. The point is that there comes a time when a man has to stand his ground. I can trace the origin of this current situation back about three months ago. I was lying in our bed trying to fall asleep and I felt itchy for some reason. I tossed and turned a bit and then felt some hard granular type of particles beneath me. At first I thought it was sand but then I realized that we hadn’t been to the beach in about seven years. I rolled over and turned on the lamp next to my bed. I knew right then and there that it was a Code Red.
Out-Numbered - “God damn it!”
My wife woke up startled.
Wife – “What is it? What’s the matter?”
Out-Numbered – “What did you do?”
Wife – “What are you talking about? I was sleeping.”
Out-Numbered – “That’s not what I meant. Don’t play dumb.”
Wife – “Are you out of your mind? Go back to sleep.”
Out-Numbered – “There’s been a major breach in security. I’m not messing around?”
Wife – “Get to the point before I breach your face.”
Out-Numbered – “Huh?”
Wife – “WHAT DO YOU WANT?”
Out-Numbered – “Oh, right… Do you mind telling me what this is in our bed?”
Wife – “It looks like Goldfish crumbs, why?”
Out-Numbered – “Goldfish crumbs? WHY? Have you any idea what this means?”
Wife – “It means our kids were eating Goldfish in our bed dumb ass. Now go back to bed.”
Out-Numbered – “Oh boy. I’m telling you, this isn’t good. No sir…”
What my wife doesn’t understand is that kids are like wild animals. They are very territorial. When you break it down to core fundamental instincts, there isn’t a hell of a lot of differences between my two daughters and a pack of savage coyotes. If it weren’t for the smell of Aveeno baby wash on my kids I would barely be able to tell them apart from the dogs. It’s amazing how much whining can sound like howling when it hits a certain pitch. Instead of pissing on my bed to mark their territory, they leave Goldfish crumbs. You think it sounds crazy? Not really. Once you let them in, you’re fucked. When I found those Goldfish crumbs I knew it was already too late. My poor wife never saw it coming.
Three months later, my kids are still leaving their droppings all over my bed. Goldfish crumbs, Oreos, cheese crackers, you name it. It’s like a freakin picnic in there. When Bon Jovi wrote the lyrics to the song, “Bed of Roses” I’m pretty sure his first draft was:
I wanna lay you down in a bed of Oreos
For tonight I’ll sleep on a bed of Goldfish crackers
I wanna be just as close as your Holy Ghost is
And lay you down in a bed of Oreos.
But the record label told him that shit wouldn’t fly on radio so he changed it.
About two weeks ago my youngest daughter started to insist that in lieu of napping in her crib she would rather nap in our bed. First sign of the apocalypse.
Wouldn’t you know it, about a week ago my oldest daughter started coming into our bed in the middle of the night? She says she’s been having bad dreams and she doesn’t want to sleep alone. Total Armageddon.
Cue the Aerosmith. I bet Bruce Willis was never this Out-Numbered…
This was hilarious. Thanks for the laugh. For V-day my wife bought new sheets. She claims a lot of reasons, but the biggest one is that the little monster doesn't like these as much (they are silky rather than cottony) so he doesn't play there/eat there/leave coyote goldfish markings all over my sheets.
ReplyDeleteAlso, I think it hilarious that you labeled "Sex Swing." Even though this is the only post that has that label.
I kinda wonder if your husband pretending to be someone else.....
ReplyDeleteThat was great, Jay.
ReplyDeleteawesome bedtime story, I have to thank god I have only one son and he has already figured out, bad dreams means sleep on the couch after three to four more rounds of call of duty 4, to rid the nightmares away of course.
ReplyDeleteIt's the old addage, the way you make your bed is the way you sleep in it. Change the pack of wild coyotes into kittens before it takes over completely. Next is the throne.
ReplyDeleteWe have the same problem. I get mad when they just step foot in my room. One toe across the threshold to my bedroom and the alarm goes off.
ReplyDeleteAmen. My husband laments about having to get out the bungy cords to attach himself on to the one inch of space he has left when assorted children crawl into our bed in the dark of night, with the stealth of ninjas.
ReplyDeleteBut I'll be honest with you. Our oldest girl is now 17. I'll take the little ones overtaking our bed over the female teenage hormones. I can't wait to read your blog in the years ahead. Oh the stories you're in for living with two teenage girls.
Start building your man room now. Make sure it contains a bathroom and locks.
Oh man, you nailed it here. At my house if we're not enduring the 3:00 am invasion we're rolling over onto transformers or legos.
ReplyDeletei love you and our cookie bed!!!
ReplyDeleteSo funny J - you've done it again!!! Lay down some new ground rules man!!! Next time I'm at your house, I'll know where to look to get a yummy snack :)
ReplyDeleteWell, I'm actually the out-numbered one. I've two boys! 6 and 4 years old and they are still sleeping with me! Can you imagine when my hubby is back from work out of the country!?
ReplyDeleteHysterical..I felt the same way, however now my daighter is 13 now doesn't want to leave her own room so I kinda miss the days of goldfish comforters
ReplyDeleteSo funny! The best part is your wife's responses! I love how we women always get the blame! Great visual imagery-you're going to make me crack up when the kids invade tonight!!
ReplyDeleteBig deal, little girls in your bed...::snorts:: Try living with a husband and two sons.
ReplyDeleteSometimes, in the middle of the night, I need the jaws of life to pry my ass out of the seatless toilet!
Monday night football is a national holiday and I've seen more skid marks than a Florida highway trooper.
You said a mouthful (of goldfish crackers & oreos) there Mister! You are totally on point - don't give in!
ReplyDeleteToo funny. We are past the kids stage at our house, now it is just the cats. They take up more room than my husband and I together! My husband is the culprit now with the crackers - however he likes Ritz as opposed to gold fish!
ReplyDeleteAWESOME...one of my favorites!!!
ReplyDeleteThis is the best laugh I have had all week. At my wife's insistance, we never allowed our kids to sleep in our bid when they were babies. I'm thankful now!
ReplyDelete-Al
Candice told me if I was bored, I should read your blogs so this is where I find myself on a Sunday night.
ReplyDeleteThis makes me laugh because I have two little sisters from my dad's 2nd marriage. Needless to say, my dad is outnumbered just like you and if you put us all together, he has 4 daughters total. He always complains that the only other male in his life is the cat.
Anyway, he got so fed up with the 8 year old climbing into bed because of "bad dreams" he has now forced my stepmom to go sleep in her little twin bed with her while he keeps the king for himself.
OMG Jason...you are one funny SOB. Our son is 12, and though he doesn't sleep with us, he is of the mind set that mom & dad's bed is the top of the world...constant battle for OUR space...Amen to Sunday mornings!
ReplyDeleteI love this blog and thank you for following on twitter, i have a 5 year old and i thought i have been in sane from the time he was born, but until now i realize these are all normal things kids do, you see i do not have anyone to talk about my problems most of the parents that i come across are so into the childs being precious , perfect , if you make a coment of how crazy your child is making you feel they would look at you weird, or oh you have are postpartum , i am not perfect ,i can say i was not ready for this parenting thing and i suck at it, There i said it. I hate when i go places and there are other mothers that try to out do you and how great they are as mothers , i always asked myself do i need to do all that to let the world know i love my child and i am a good mother? because it is not part of my nature and i cannot pretend i am something i am not The "Perfect MOM" So thank you for the honesty of this blog. Love It.
ReplyDelete