Five Men in my Bed

If you had told me sixteen years ago that on this date, today, I would have five men in my bed in one twenty-four hour period, I would have called you a fool.

In fact, that's exactly what happened. 

I crawled into bed last night at Amostten, the time before ten and nine-thirty, the time unidentified by humankind because no one bothered to look at a clock.  I was reading my son's library book.  Suddenly I felt a Kathunk! and the first of the household males landed on the bed and made himself comfortable.

It was Carmel, our oversized long-haired male cat, who is a dear love.  He completely won over our hearts with his gentle manner when he adopted us as his favorite dinner spot, and now winters with us to keep his arthritis feeling better.  I don't mind a furball in bed with me, but the first thing he did was to begin grooming.  It's not fair to complain, I suppose, but it felt like a bad date to have a guy land in bed with you and begin licking himself.  I was glad I wasn't his girlfriend.

Sometime after 11:30, I awoke to find the second of my nightly visitors.  Our eight year old had crawled in bed with me and made himself quite at home.  Normally I would have returned him to bed, but fatigued just overtook me and I went back to sleep.  He must have been related to The Flying Wallenda's, because he traveled ALL OVER that bed!  I don't mind sharing with humans, but taking up the middle seemed rude.  He and I need to talk.

At 4:30, I gave up trying to sleep with one kid and a cat and came out to clean out my e-mail inbox.  Soon an inquisitve Teenager showed up, wondering if his little brother had wandered down the street.  "He's not in bed," he whispered to me in a worried tone.

"He's in ours," I said back. "Go back to bed."

Apparently that meant any bed, which specifically seemed to be ours.  I knew that after he got tired of not being able to fall back to sleep, he'd poke his brother, and then a scuffle would break out.  Parents know how this is. 

"No, you can't sleep in there!" I called to him.

"Why?" he demanded.  He's going through a Fairnes Evaluation phase, apparently nonplussed by the old adage, "Life isn't fair." 

"No, you two will get into a fight or something and then neither of you will get any sleep," I insisted.

This set off a string of accusations, begging and whining.  "Where am I supposed to sleep?" he demanded.

"How about in your own bed?" I pointed out.  "You've been there most of the night!"

In the end, he settled on my suggestion to take the couch, though one hour of tossing later, he's up playing a video game.

In an hour or so, The Man Who Puts Up With Me will be home, and when he crawls in bed, he'll kick the black and white cat out.  Tux hasn't made it to the bed yet, but while I dress in the morning, he'll come in to hang out, lay down, and sleep like he's been pulling a plow all day.  How I would love to have the sleeping habits of a cat.  That will make 5 men in my bed in one day.

Of course, that's not totally true.  Both our cats have been "neutralized."  But if you had told me sixteen years ago that in one 24 hour period I would have three men and two eunuchs in my bed in one twenty-four hour period, I would have turned and walked away. I would have hoped, too, that you didn't follow me.