Dear Bed, I Miss You

Since Carolyn was born seven weeks ago (yes, SEVEN), I've either been sleeping on the couch or on a mattress in her room - so when she wakes up in the middle of the night, I can hop on her like a duck on a June bug before she can really get the old cry (scream) machine going.

Don't get me wrong, the mattress is a pretty good one - better than what a lot of people sleep on nightly.

But it's nothing compared to the bed in my room.  That one's a king-size Serta pillow top.  You sink into it. It's fluffy.  When Husband rolls over in the middle of the night, you can barely feel it.  It's luscious.

I kind of have a love affair with it. 

So much so that when we first got it, I made everyone who came over go upstairs and lay on it. 

How freaky is that? 

Welcome to my house!  Do you want to go upstairs and try out my bed?

I unwittingly freaked out one of Husband's friends when, despite his adamant yet polite refusal, I kept insisting and in the end, nearly physically dragged him to the bed.

It was kind of like Miss Hannigan and Daddy Warbucks in Annie.

But marginally less creepy.

Anyway, this morning as I was trying to find something clean to wear, I wandered into our bedroom.

The bed was calling my name.

I looked at it longingly and had Carolyn not been screaming her head off, would have climbed in and pulled the covers over my head.

I gave the sheets one loving stroke.

I almost started serenading it with a Peter Cetera song.  Like this one.   Don't you just love Daniel San?  And Peter's sexy, feathered hair? Wait...maybe I should have sang this one instead.

Oh, bed, I miss you.  Our love was meant to be...the kind of love to last forever...

I will come back to you soon.