This morning, my son enters the kitchen completely dressed (and looking adorable in his roll-cuffed skinny jeans, light blue long-sleeve t-shirt and red superhero t-shirt on top) but this means one and only dreaded thing: he’s wet his bed. Again. Le sigh.
I’ve barely sipped my first cup of coffee for the day, so I’m trying to remain calm and even about this little accident. It’s not the end of the world, of course… kids wet themselves sometimes. My kid is a particularly heavy sleeper, and these things happen. A lot.
“You look great, babe!” I say, but what I’m thinking is jesuschristyou’veGOTtobekiddingmeasifIhaven’tgotenoughlaundrytodoasitis… But I don’t. I grit my teeth and smile. I give him a morning hug and rub him on the head, and tell him it’s okay about his bed. He’s not bothered in the least. He’s always the one reminding me that “these things happen.” Well adjusted kid, I guess. So far, so good.
I go to his room to see how much “wet” I’m facing today. The entire bed needs to be stripped. My kid can really piss bucketfuls overnight, even though we wake him for a pee in before we head to bed for the night… and EVERYTHING gets just wet enough to warrant a trip to the washer, including the pillows sometimes. I dunno if he’s dancing in there at night or what.
The thought of all the wrestling required to refresh this bed before bedtime makes me tired before I’ve even begun. Oy. I really hate trying to get a duvet back inside it’s cheerful cover. I hate pushing fat pillows back into their sleeves, no matter how you fold them… and I’m always a bit worried I’m going to crack a nail which is worst of all.
I try to make it easier on myself as it is by only using a duvet cover and fitted sheet on the all the beds in the house – no fooling around with the flat sheet, trying to get it straight and perfecting hospital corners… Martha be damned. It’s far easier to just plump a few pillows and shake out the duvet into perfect billowiness every morning. Add your accent pillows to the mix, and perhaps layer a throw blanket at the end of the bed, and voila! A magazine-spread-worthy bed, in a snap. At least it’s that simple with our adult, queen sized bed, low to the ground and away from the walls.
For the sake of space arrangements, my kid sleeps on a bunk bed. Great idea for smaller homes, but horrible for bed-making mummies. I feel like a monkey, climbing all over the place, trying to get fitted sheets smoothed appropriately at all four corners – it’s hard to lift a mattress corner while you’re kneeling on it, you know. Then there’s the matter of trying not to whack my head on the top bunk while making the bottom bed, all hunched over like that. I’m positively sweaty and pissed by the time I’m finished.
In the past, I’ve moved the bed away from the wall entirely so I could walk the perimeter unencumbered, but with the little roll-away drawers of cars and trains (not to mention dust) under the bed, this tripping-hazard only serves in reminding me how I need to sort through some of that junk AND pass the vacuum, right after I soothe my newly-bruised shin. Balls. I loathe reminders of more work. I just want to shut my eyes and go back to my own freshly-made bed. Mostly, I just make like a monkey to get the job done.
Maybe if I didn’t remind myself how MUCH I HATE changing the bedsheets whenever the task is required, I could tackle the chore with a lighter hand. I think there’s a trick to that. Whistle while you work, maybe? I try to remind myself how lucky I am to have a washer and a dryer in my own home, as many people in the world to not have this luxury. (Of course, no one I know, but that’s just a detail.) I secretly wish I had another washer/dryer set, and dream about how it would make my life sooooo much easier, but that’s crazy-thinking (and I’m crazy like that). I’m still The Laundress. What I really wish for is a bed-making fairy who would work in exchange for rice krispie treats. My beds would be laundered and tidy, and my house would smell like 10-minute vanilla confections all the time. I could totally get on board with that.
When I’m done, I do like the way the beds looks, but it never lasts long… so I took a picture (which will, you know, last longer). Chances are it’ll be wet again by morning anyway.
And now that that’s done, I will try to get at least on coat of polish on these nails to make them bulletproof before we start again tomorrow.