Landmines in the Bedroom

Posted on October 28, 2014 Updated on October 28, 2014

I remember listening to a teaching once in regard to couples who were engaged to be married soon. Each of the couple grew up in a family where that family dynamic was their “normal”. Instinctively each of them would be bringing that “normal” into their new marriage. The opportunity for a collision of worlds was inevitable and to be expected. The goal in understanding this truth was to begin making their own new “normal” together as a new family.

My personal enlightenment to this truth hadn’t come from a nice clean-cut teaching early on in our marriage, but rather in the trenches of real life experience. Like many newly married couples Marm and I worked out our “normal” as each situation arose.

I grew up in a “normal” where bedtime was strictly observed and routine was important. Brushed my teeth, went to the bathroom, got my drink, said goodnight to the folks, and went off to bed in my room. There was no talking or making noise, and I certainly didn’t come out again until morning. I had no problem with this routine what-so-ever. It was my normal.

Fast forward with me now and you find a married man with a house full of children. The crib over the years had always been beside our bed. The babies were at hand in our room for easy access during the night, and for a sense of belonging and being close to us. Our family “normal” looked completely different from the ones we had grown up with as kids.

Our children loved to sleep with us. This was fine when they’re very little, and very practical. Having the baby in the bed with us was amazing and I loved it. As they grew bigger and slept at every angle known to man, it became more of a challenge.

To solve this dilemma  we made beds on the floor in our room for the kids. Sleeping bags, pads, blankets, pillows, and “stuffies” of varied shapes and sizes were everywhere. A birdseye view of the room would never be a picture that made it into a “Boudoirs of the Rich and Famous”. It was a deliciously chaotic scene.

After the bedtime preparations were complete the kids would crawl into their floor beds and begin dropping off to sleep. We loved having them so close, and they did too.

Mornings were a bit trickier. I was the first to rise in our family, the proverbial early bird. 4 or 5 o’clock was my normal time to wake up, and as such required the utmost quiet. The first thing I had to do before making a move of any sort was to remember where the kids were on the floor the night before. Let’s see, one on the floor by my side of the bed, one at the corner at my end of the bed, one over on the floor by Marm’s side at the end, and so on. That’s how it looked when we put them to bed anyway. It’s morning now and they have had the entire night to change things up. It was that “move at every angle known to man” thing.

The second thing to do was make a visual inspection. At 5:00 in the morning it’s still dark outside, so night lights were my heroes. “Shoot, they’ve moved,” I would whisper under my breath while beginning the assessment. Once I made out their new general locations it was time to move on to step three. Where are their appendages?

I can still feel to this day placing a carefully misguided foot down on top of an arm or leg that shouldn’t have been there. How can a child all curled up at the bottom of a sleeping bag have their arm sticking out just waiting for me to step on it? I wish I had home movies of me negotiating this maze. I would carefully thread my way in and around their little bodies silent as a mouse . More than once I had accidentally stepped on the long hair of one of the girls and felt it tugging on their head. The little groan from within the pile of blankets confirmed my findings. Yep, that was hair.

Ultimately and after a wildly awkward balancing act that should qualify me as a prima ballerina I would make it to my dresser and closet for the much-needed clothes for the day. It didn’t take me long before I was putting said clothes in the hallway the night before.

Marm and I would laugh together as I would relate these morning antics to her. We would remind each other that it wouldn’t too long and the kids would want to move to their own rooms and beds. Sadly, that was all too true.

It’s ironic that I am actually the only one who remembers these morning moments. After all, I was the only one awake to see them. Secretly I’m nursing the idea that some day soon my grandchildren will be old enough to sleep over, and maybe they’ll be the next set of landmines in the bedroom.

In coming!