I’m Done Sleeping With My Husband

During our discussions about attachment parenting and breastfeeding, I’ve said many times that we don’t co-sleep. However, my reason for not co-sleeping has nothing to do with co-sleeping in and of itself, but is related to the fact that I fight like a WWF wrestler in my sleep. I’ve been this way since I was a little girl. Not only do I throw some fabulous right hooks in my sleep, I also scream out obscenities like I have Tourette’s syndrome. Anyone who has shared a bed or a room with me during the night usually comes away with a story to tell.

But nobody’s stories will top Yancy’s. He’s been sleeping with me for years so he’s got the best. He’s woken up with my hands around his neck, been punched in the back, smacked across the chest, kicked, and slapped. He’s also watched me jump out of bed and do an army roll into the window and fall out of bed from my thrashing around on more than one occasion. Of course we’ve had a rule since our first night together that I can’t be held responsible for anything that comes out of my mouth in the night.

This story gets even better.

Yancy is one of those individuals whose sexual beast comes out while he sleeps. Which means that throughout the night I am continually being groped or grabbed in some form or fashion. I’ll spare you the details since my mom reads this blog sometimes, but suffice it say his actions are just as counterproductive to a good nights sleep as mine. Not to mention that his grabs usually end in a retaliatory smack.

The other night we were both awake yet again after he yelled, “Man- you just punched me in the face.”

Which I had.

The next morning when I woke up feeling unrested and as if I hadn’t slept at all for what was probably the millionth time, I was thinking it was time to ditch our queen sized bed and get a king. Then I did the math and a king size bed only adds another 12 inches. Was another foot actually gonna keep us from attacking each other? Then I had a realization.

Why do we think we have to sleep together when we are so clearly incompatible? Who made the rule that in marriage you have to share beds?

When Yancy came home that night he came home to this:

It’s my experiment. I’m tired of not sleeping. We have busy lives and we NEED sleep. The arrangement that we have clearly is not working. And I’m all about doing what works. In parenting, in marriage, in life, and in whatever I do.

Does sleeping together = staying together? Is there an unwritten rule somewhere about this?

We’ll see. I’ll let you know how this goes. Stay tuned.

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