Tales From a Messy Bed

I am not a good housekeeper. There I said it. We don’t live in filth; the house is what you would call tidy at times. You will find dust, toys, some dirty dishes, and things of that nature. One thing I do not do is make the beds. I don’t require my children to do this either. I know some people may disagree, and think that this is a good discipline to make a habit out of, but I don’t. I remember when I was younger my mom tried to incorporate making the bed into my routine. I gave her a logical reason why I thought this practice was impractical Why should I make my bed when I am just going to mess it up when I go to sleep? My mom bought this, or she did not feel like arguing. From that day on my mom only asked the beds to be made when company was coming over. I have kept this philosophy.

Let me get to my messy bed. My bed is a place where I like to go during the day and just think by myself, with no interruptions. I am laughing to myself as I write no interruptions. For some reason my kids love my bed, they must be on it when ever they get a chance, especially if I am on it thinking by myself. I still try to get some alone time. I will very quietly sneak up on my bed. All the while keeping my eye on the door. Listening to the kids playing in the bedroom. I think to myself, perfect I made it; I am up here, alone. They didn’t hear me. Then I see a little face peak around the door. It’s Oney, the baby. He sees me and starts screaming “UP, UP!” Then I hear the playing stop. I hear the kids jumping off their own beds, and running into my room. They know mom is alone on her bed. Here they all come, one by one they jump on my bed, hugging and kissing me. They argue who is going to sit right next to me. The boys start to wrestle. Miss wants to talk about stuff. I want to scream, “GET OFF MY BED!” But I don’t.

I remember what I used to do as a kid. I loved being in my Mom and Dads bed. We would all snuggle, as I listened to my Mom and Dad talk and laugh. I remember when my Grandma would be talking teenage issues with my Aunt on her bed. I would just lie there and listen. When my Grandma would lie in her bed and read, I would jump up and insist she read to me from her book, she always would.

Now my bed is the place where I talk to Miss about things that are on her mind. Where I cuddle with Bug. My bed is the place where Lil D, Oney, and I tickle and wrestle. When Big D is home we all sit on the bed and look at Photo albums, listen to music, or just talk about the interesting things going on around us. Sure I could lock the door and tell Miss to watch the kids while I have my alone time on my bed, but I won’t.

I don’t want to think about a time where I may be alone in a big messy bed. Wanting a waiting for someone to come and talk, cuddle, or wrestle. So I will keep my door open and I will welcome the chaos and the quiet moments that happen on my messy bed.