Husband and wife living together in big white house with two dogs fighting over a toy in the front yard. Child number one skipping through the front yard playing with one of those stick things where you spin the hula hoop around, child number two blowing bubbles on the front porch while a small kitten paws at the floating suds. Husband comes home, wife meets him on the front porch with a cool glass of lemonade. Wife is wearing a white dress and her hair is perfect. There is a pot roast cooking in the kitchen and the husband plants a kiss on wife's cheek and puts his arm around her.
Ok, so I obviously watched too much "Leave it to Beaver" in my childhood, either that or immersed my head in one too many golden books about "mommy's helper." Either way, I had this vision of what life would be like once the stuffed animals and barbie dolls made it into storage bins and pink barrettes were replaced with curling irons and makeup without glitter. No matter how far fetched my imagination, it always included the following....
Husband
wife
kid
house
driveway
I had so many dreams, so many thoughts of what my life would be like. And no matter how the dream changed, never in a million years did I think it would change to the following
Kid
me
cat
apartment
bunk bed
Yes...bunk bed. I am 39 years old and I sleep in a bunk bed. It is not my first choice, but when you find yourself in a two bedroom apartment you cannot afford, you are forced to make some choices that push that "lemonade carrying front porch standing" version of you out of the way for a little bit longer.
In short, you do what you have to do.
About a month ago, my boyfriend and I had broken up and I was in my house alone. At that moment I was worried about how I would pay for the bills, how would I do what I was accustomed to doing once I had the help of someone else in the house. It was also at that moment that a friend of mine needed a place to stay. Hmm, the last time I lived with a female roommate I was in my 20's, slept in till 2pm on most days and lived on ramen. Could I do this in my adulthood? After being so used to living with a man, could I possibly live with a girl again?
I decided to help her out, as she was helping me out as well. She moved in and I took all of Sam's stuff out of his room and put it into storage. Now when I say storage, I mean I hid his stuff in random places all over the house so to escape the hot box that they call storage units in Austin. I remember standing in his room the night before "G" moved in and removing the posters from his bedroom wall and hanging them next to the pictures in my room. I now have a Halo poster next to a picture with a relaxing water scene. It is like relax....or this thing will shoot you!!!
There was definitely a feeling of failure as I packed up my son's room. Like I was taking away his independence and making him share a room with his mom. I hated placing his twin bed on the floor next to my bed so that it resembled a jumpy place. It was not ideal, but I needed to think about what was more important...saving money and helping out a friend or having a room my son could call his own.
This scenario remained fun for exactly two days. I had to stand on my son's bed in order to open my dresser, I had to move all my clothes from my already jampacked closet to one side in order to make room for toys, boxes of matchbox cars and Christmas decorations. I could no longer lay in bed and watch shows on my computer as I needed to tiptoe into the room and sneak into bed. My son soon realized that my bed was much more fun to sleep in then a twin bed on the floor and I found him curled up dead center in my bed each night. I could either move him over, sleep at the foot of the bed, or choose the twin bed on the floor with the race car sheets.
This was not going to work out.
But I couldn't afford to live here alone, I really really liked my roommate, and my lease had at least 8 months left before it was done. I had to figure out how to make it work.
I joked one day with a friend about how I needed bunk beds, and she said, "you know that's not a bad idea."
Chuckle to self widely, shake head no many times, then envision self standing on captain america's head while reaching for underwear drawer.
OK!!! Off to the furniture store we go!!!
One thing I will say, I had not slept in a bunk bed or loft bed since college. My roommate and I had them in the dorms and I could basically high jump into the top bunk. But now I was an adult and needed to have a bigger bed. I took Sam to the furniture store and we began looking at all sorts of bunk beds.
Full over full, twin over full, beds with a trundle bed, bunk beds with a built in desk, lofted beds....the list goes on and on. All I know is that I refused to sleep in a twin bed so we decided upon a twin over full.
The day the bunk bed arrived, I was overwhelmed with excitement. They set it up in the room and the smell of real wood filled the space. We made the beds and both sat on our designated bed. My son with his feet on the ceiling, me in my bed space that felt like I was getting an MRI, and we sat and relaxed. My son did not come out of his bed except to pee for the entire day.
Now, I have had my moments where I hate these things, like when I sit up and hit my head on the top bunk or if one of Sam's toys or stuffed animals take the suicide plunge off the top bunk and hit me in the head. (those of you that follow me on Facebook know that I added an iron man figurine to the list of items that have hit me in the head during my slumber) . Also making the beds ranks up the there with the same difficulty level as advanced calculus and ironing pleated pants, but we are adjusting. I actually find myself loving the sound of my son as he breathes in the bed above me. There is a level of comfort just knowing that he is so close.
Trust me, sleeping in a bunk bed at the age of 39 was not my lifelong goal. I don't think, in my childhood visions of the future involved sleeping in a 12 x 12 room with her 8 year old son and finding pop tart wrappers and matchbox cars in her bed. But, I am so happy with the other elements in my life, that having a ladder four inches from my face is the least of my worries.
