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Monday
Nov242008

I Don't Just Dream It, I Live It

After more than a decade of listening to me whining and bitching complaining about our mattress, my husband finally manned up relented and forked out the cash for a new mattress and box spring for our bed.

It was well past the time for a new one. I mean, let's face it. We bought the thing when we were young and in love. We may or may not have bounced on it so much that the springs were starting to poke through the fabric.

It was a (ahem) well-used mattress if you catch my drift. Wink, wink.

Boo was in no hurry to replace the mattress. He kept putting it off, justifying one more night, one more week on the bed of springs by telling me there were better things he could spend our money on.

Like massages from one-legged Asian midget hookers up north.

He's thoughtful like that.

Of course he wasn't worried about our mattress. That man sleeps like the dead whether a sharp metal spring is tickling his ass crack or not. The man could sleep on a bed of nails and still wake up fully rested with a morning erection looking to get some.

That combined with the fact he only has to spend four or five days actually trying to sleep on our old sagging, stained and sharp bed of broken pocket springs meant he was unconcerned with the state of our marital bed. Hell, as far as he was concerned, a lumpy mattress just acted as insurance for him. 

He knew there was no way I was going to bring home anybody else to do a little mattress dancing on our embarrassingly old sleeping pad. And if I did, he'd be able to identify the poor schlep by the scars from being stabbed by an errant metal spring while rolling around with me.

He's a clever dude, my husband. Plus he sleeps on a new, comfortable mattress at the hoity toity hotel he's staying in, 26 nights of the month.

I, however, am not so lucky. Which meant he was not going to get lucky unless he stopped being such a dumbass money miser and cough up the funds for a pretty new mattress for his princess.

Sure, it took a little persuasion of the sexy kind, but eventually he came around to my point of view. (Don't judge me people.) I've been crawling out from that marital dip so long I've permanent spinal damage. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do to get her way. Even if that means dusting off the ole knee pads.

Or agreeing to sleep in the wet spot. (Gah.)

It was a happy day not so long ago, when I eagerly watched (as I sat on my ass and declined to help) as he wrestled our new, expensive and sparkly mattress through our front door.

The kids and I gleefully hauled the old mattress out of the house and tossed it off the front deck like the true rednecks we are. Nothing says class like a stained ugly mattress sitting on one's grass like a lawn ornament.

As Boo cussed and cursed and sweated his way into getting our oversized mattress and it's brand spanking new box spring onto our bed, the children and I took turns jumping off the deck and bouncing onto the mattress below while screeching 'Cowabunga!!!" at the tops of our lungs.

We made a game out of seeing who could avoid getting stabbed by an errant spring. I lost that game, but it was well worth the wounds when I was finally able to climb on my much higher, firmer and more comfortable new pad and waggle my eyebrows at my sweating husband and ask him if he wanted to take a test drive with me on our new bed.

He may or may not have agreed. He may or may not have made me do most of the work as he whined about how much heavier they make mattresses nowadays and how tired he was from hauling that thing off the truck, up our deck, into the house and onto our ridiculously high poster bed while I played with the kids.

I may or may not have just ignored him as I broke in our new bed. (Aren't we the most romantic couple EVER?) Snicker.

I had high hopes that with our new mattress I would finally be able to find some peace at night as I tried to slumber. No longer did I have to worry about rolling into my husband's smelly armpits in the middle of the night or being stabbed wide awake as a spring poked at my sensitive bits. Nor did I have to worry about catching a boob ring on one of the sharp springs and ripping off my boob. 

I could barely contain my glee at the simple luxury of knowing I could finally sleep in peace; rest in comfort.

But I soon learned it doesn't matter how much money one sinks into the quality of their nightly foundation, bad dreams and insomnia will find you no matter whether you sleep on a bed of rusty coils or the finest feathers a swan can part with.

While I no longer wake up feeling like an arthritic 80-year-old woman who just ran the Boston Marathon the night before, I'm still having trouble sleeping. Dreams plague me nightly, thoughts and worries about adoption and life torment my nightly rest.

Last night was no different. Between a series of dreams where visions of past friends, green eyes and old tragedies twisted my psyche, I tossed and turned and tried to find a quiet moment of sleep. 

Nixon, the World's Greatest Dog, Ever, did not help with his flatulent gifts or his obnoxious snoring. Thatcher, the newest Wonder Dog and Nixon's trusty sidekick kept trying to push me off my pillow or sleep directly on my face. I despaired of ever getting any real rest and eyed the alarm clock wearily, wondering if I would still be awake when the kids finally tumbled out of bed with more energy than a rabbit on crack.

Eventually I must have drifted off. That's when Bug came to visit me like he so often does. Some times the dreams are sweet and I want to weep upon waking, wishing urgently to go back to dreamland to spend one more minute with him as his mommy. Other times the dreams are angst-filled and scary and I wake up mired in a blanket of grief so thick it threatens to smother me.

Last night was neither. My dream was more a fuzzy, garbled recollection of a memory from his short life. Shale had a habit near the end of his life, of getting out of bed in the middle of the night and crawling into the kitchen under the cover of darkness, to find his way to the kitchen cupboards.

From there he'd slip his little fingers under the door and start banging the cupboard closed, repeatedly while singing "ARGHHHHHH, AHHHHHH, UHHHHH" at the top of his little musical voice.

One such night I woke up to the repeated thunking of the kitchen cupboards and dragged my disoriented ass into the kitchen, half panicked there was an autistic robber going through my cabinets looking for silver.

I screeched like a little girl when the beady little whites of my child's unblinking eyes stared at me when I finally located the source of the banging. Bug giggled gleefully and dawning came upon me as I fully woke up and realized it wasn't a disabled thief knocking at my kitchen, just my disabled child.

I bent down to scoop him up into my arms to tuck him back into his bed so I could crawl back into my own when a disturbing odour wafted up and tickled my nose. My mommy radar kicked in and I was wise enough to turn on the stove light to survey the damage before sticking my hand into something disgusting.

Turned out Bug's diaper had runneth over. Which is likely why the little dude was awake and thumping the kitchen cabinetry. He was telling me in his own thoughtful way to get my arse out of bed and take care of his business.

In fact, there was a trail of business all the way from his bed, down the hall and into the kitchen. You could see where he had scooched so freely in his escape from his now decidedly stinky room in his midnight madness.

Bug had also thoughtfully stuck his hands into said business and painted happy hieroglyphics among various surfaces of the wall and cabinets.

My darling four year old covered in shit, my house filled with it, and I remember cussing something about him being a shit head as I tossed him into the bath, stripped his bedding and started scrubbing the floors and the walls at two in the morning.

I was reliving that moment in time (because out of all the damned memories Bug left me with THIS was the one my darling self chose to review) last night as I slumbered on my new fancy mattress and the smell was so very vivid. It was like I was reliving the disgusting moment of time and my nose hairs were curling up and falling off as I slept.

Right as I bent down to start wiping up the mess, I gagged a little in my dream and as I reached out to clean up the mess I woke up from this half nightmare, half recollection.

That's when I opened my eyes.

And found Thatcher the sidekick, sitting on my pillow not an inch from my nose, eating a piece of cat crap.

Smelly cat scat. On my pillow. On my new mattress. By my face.

Remnants of the litter box pickings she so thoughtfully brought to me were scattered on my mattress. Where I sleep. Naked.

It seemed my night was filled with shit and now so, my day.

Thatcher dropped her tasty morsel of poop when she realized I was awake and in true puppy love fashion, leaned over and licked my face with doggy love before I could even blink.

Welcome to Monday. Apparently I can't escape the shit.
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Reader Comments (73)

Oh, wow, and I thought the time the cat puked on my pillow while I was sleeping was bad. EW. Cat poop. New mattress... so sad.

Ewwwww. That is just bad. Every morning I am greeted by the sound of lovely 8 yr. old mutt licking her coochie. Seriously just because you can is not a good reason.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterDC Urban Dad

Wow, I guess you must have coined the term "Shit happens."

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered Commenterilinap

Ah, what a life of wonder. You never know what you're going to wake up to next!

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterAvitable

I may have to stop reading your blog. Even your posts about shit make me cry.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered Commentermichellew_

That is one of my huge fears, having my cats bring something to me in the middle of the night and plop it on my face. I'm convinced one time they are going to find a mouse and kill it and come show me what they did.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterKristabella

Oh Gross. Lovely way to start the day.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterEllyn

At least Thatcher brought you the cat poop (a gawd-awful present!), rather than the cat having pooped on your pillow!

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterGemini Jen

My two year old got into the litter box last night. Feel free to use your imagination, because I do not care to relive it. Shudder.

My aching back and I went from being completely jealous of your new mattress to having my insomniac-addled brain empathize with your dreams and nightmares to all of the above thanking god that I did not wake up in cat shit.

On the plus side, you can clean cat crap up, whereas I will still have my shitty, concrete-firm bed.

:S

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterLoralee

Last year my stepmom's dog ate deer poop and vomited it in her open MOUTH while she was sleeping. True story. You can't make that shit up.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterAprylsantics

My heart hurt when you described your dreams of your Bug.

But
*gag*
the poop kept me from actually crying.

Eww.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterAshlie- Mommycosm

Gawd, that was touching...leastways, I thought it was gonna be!

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered Commenterderfina

I thought you were going to wake up and be upset about calling him a shithead and being angry with him. I was all set to snot up and cry (I've been reading your Bug blog, too) and then *WHAM!*. Cat poop. I *love* your blog.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterCountessa

I'm disturbed. I'm jealous of your new mattress. I'm sorry of your difficulty with sleep. I laughed about Bug because I've had similar experiences with mine (ew) but the cat poop did make me gag a bit.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterKristen

My dog eats her own throw up.

I was thinking about putting Christmas lights on my front yard mattress. Figured then maybe my neighbors would quit bugging me about it.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterRhea

Okay... the dreams... the new mattress, I swear we're living the same kind of life right now. Except no cat. Just puppy crap to step in when I wake in the middle of the night from the dreams that have been so obscure and weird and wacky. I still cried, as I usually do, reading your dream about Bug.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterJodie

Someone very classy put out their used mattress on our curb and a beat down truck with a beat down guy came by and threw it on top of his other beat up mattresses that he had picked up.

hopefully he wasn't planning on using them to sleep on. it made me so sad.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterPAPA

Okay, I am going to need you take that awesome cartoon off your blog so I can come back and read this. I tried and even made it through, but I don't think my brain absorbed it all since I was too busy giggling at the wet spot. It's like that cartoonist has been a fly on the wall of my marital bedroom.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered Commentershonda

Off the subject a bit I once got kicked out of a strip joint in the middle of a bachelor party when the groom-to-be fondled a midget stripper. She wasn't Asian however.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterTravis Erwin

Well you could look at it this way, if your day starts off like that it can only get better not worse.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterJess

I'm crying over shit now, too.

Thanks.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered Commentertoyfoto

I feel better about the dog shit I routinely walk through when I stumbled out at five in the morning because the assholes wake me up to go outside....after they've already DONE their business.
Makes cleaning up for the holidays EVER so much fun. LOL.
You had to have the new mattress initiated. Now you can leave all the "wet spots" you want without worry.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterJennifer McKenzie

Um ... is it okay that this makes me feel better about how my day's been going?

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterMomma Trish

Damn. And I get upset when our dog eats GARBAGE. Ugh.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterColleen - Mommy Always Wins

You win the shitty monday award hands down.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered Commenterkatie

This has got to be about the funniest thing I have ever read. I will never complain about my Mondays again...any post that can make me gag a little is a successful post in my book!

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterMatt

Oh. my. GOD. That is so disgusting and hilarious at the same time.

Us moms, we sure do deal with a lot of shit, literally and figuratively.

And it's a thankless job at that. Except when your kids thank you for not killing them after they have driven you to insanity. There's always that...

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterPetra

Wait. When did you get a cat?

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterChicky Chicky Baby

Cat poop? On a new mattress? That would equal time for new animals for me. But, you may be a nicer person than me...which wouldn't be difficult. :)

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterThe Stiletto Mom

Sweet, and EW all at the same time.

New beds rock - I made Stewart buy me a new one after his heavy ass made a big vortex down the centre of the bed that I kept slipping into at night. Bonus? Got me a KIng bed - that way I don't even have to touch him when I sleep - unless I wanted to...

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterSleepynita

ARGH! I totally feel for you -last week, my 70 pound, 10 month old golden retriever ate the stuffing from one of his toys, and apparently had a hard time getting it out.
He came in the house with a huge half-in half-out poo hangin' on, and I found out the hard way.
He got nervous, and repeatedly started standing up, sitting down, standing again, and repeating about seven times on my brand new wood floors.
When I finally calmed him enough to drag him to the tub, he jumped out while I was turned around gagging, and shook soaking wet poo ALL OVER my bathroom walls.
Shitty day? yes, it was everywhere, literally and figuratively! I feel for you! (And cat poo flavored dog slobber, ewww!)

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterErin

Good lord, woman, if there was an award for having a shitty Monday (a bronzed piece of poop on a pedestal, perhaps), you would totally win it!

That's just shitty and all around crap-tastic.

Happy that you finally got a new bed. I have nights where sleep eludes me, but at least I am laying awake in comfort.

I still get mad as hell that I'm not sleeping though...

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterAngella

That cartoon with the lady in the bathtub full of wet spot? Made me snort soda out all over my brand new MacBook. **Snicker**

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterTwenty Four At Heart

I just threw up in my mouth.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterSciFi Dad

Oh, I don't even know what to say to this. It's just wrong. And bad. And horribly bad and wrong.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterKarly

Cats are evil.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterGunfighter

You know, everytime I hear a story like that (although I never really hear a story like one of yours) I am always amazed with what dogs are willing to put in their mouths.

I am even more amazed when I remind myself that a dog's mouth is cleaner than mine both literally and figuratively.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterAn Cailin

Praying no dogs ever pee, poop or transport either of the aforementioned objects onto my bed. Praying with all my might.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterMissives From Suburbia

I've never laughed, cried, laughed some more and then wanted to gag in five minutes, but you've made that possible. I love you for your optimistic look on the world, cat shit and all.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterElizabeth

Diamonds in the dungheap, indeed!

This one had all the things I like about your posts (although a bit heavy on the poop).

Still, that dream sequence with your son got me. I've had a few weird ones similar to that about my twins. I grok what you say.

Peace,
IG

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterIrishGumbo

Ewww. Yuck. We have no cats, but we do have a bunny. Our newest dog L-O-V-E-S to eat the bunny poop. For some reason he then reacts as if he just took crack. We now call it "bunny crack" and work like mad to keep him away from it. Blech. At least it is small enough to not carry it into bed and munch next to my head. Gah.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterColleen (ladyeunicorn)

Phew! I was SO relieved you didn't say you woke up with giant red sore knots all over your back side like I have been doing for the past 2 months with our new extra firm bed! I guess I'm just like Princess & the Pea, nobody can explain it.

Sorry your Monday was so shitty, mine started out that way too until the mail man came and brought my new shuffle! Woohoo! ;)

...rabbit on crack? SO stealing that one!

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterO'Neal

Oh, thank GOD someone else had a day as bad as mine. I feel much better.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterMomo Fali

I was doing ok until Thatcher licked your face. Then I lost it. Great story.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered Commenterabove average joe

wow, you sleep naked in canada? i'm in florida and wear flannel pj's.

p.s. sorry about the dreams :-/

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterMommyNamedApril

My sister did that once. She unlatched her crib and then poo painted all over the walls of her room. I don't think my mom will ever let her forget it.

Sorry about the cat poo thing, almost makes me glad I'm allergic.

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterIrish Chicken Soup

Goota love dogs, they're such...dogs.

But not o the frickin bed! Down boy (or girl), down!

Gawd, kitty krackers...yukkkkk!

November 24, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterFusion

I too once had a dog that did this. For some reason he thought that the tootsie rolls in the litter pan were some kind of freaky bonus treat!

R.I.P.

OK...

No I didn't kill him then, he is officially dead of old age but don't think I DIDN'T THINK ABOUT IT!

November 25, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterSpecial K

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