When I found out we were having a second little babe so soon after Matty, I was immensely excited about a lot of things but there was one thing in particular I was super excited about: BUNK BEDS.
I remember waddling through Pottery Barn Kids, 9 months pregnant, giddy with excitement just taking in the beautifully coordinated, youthful displays – the sturdy, abundant bunk beds with fluffy pillows, brightly colored quilts, adorable stuffed animals and fuzzy rugs. I imagined (and still do) my boys climbing, jumping, swinging and loudly giggling. I imagined (and still do) them whispering to each other long after their bedtimes, in the warm glow of a night light about weird kid things that made no sense. I imagined (and still do) them a little older, one trying to read a book under the light of a cheap flashlight while the other threatens to tattle if he doesn’t shut it off. I envision it all like it’s a scene out of Parenthood.
Or at least I did, until Seth took away my dreams and broke the news to me that he doesn’t think the boys should share a room.
I mean, I guess I never really ran my dreams of our boys sharing a bunk bed and staying up past their bedtime or talking in thick pirate accents while they pretended they were captain and co-captain of a dangerous pirate ship, per say – but I’ve definitely, not at all subtly, expressed my love for bunk beds. And I’ve totally let on my intentions of them sharing a room – at least – 400 different times by saying things like, “Well when the boys are sharing a room…” or “When we move the boys into one room…” or all the times I’ve said “The boys will be sharing a room until they’re at least 10.”
You guys, come on, who doesn’t want their kids – THEIR TWO BOYS WHO ARE EXCTLY 18 MONTHS APART TO. THE. DAY. – to share a room and be best friends forever, for eva eva? Did I marry an anomaly??? Oh, just shhhh…
He says it’s because they’re boys and they’ll grow up and they should have their own space – that they’ll want their own space. And I say, “Obviously! What kid doesn’t?! That doesn’t mean they need it!”
He says something else and it’s obvious he’s alluding to things boys do when they hit puberty. Ahem. And as their mother, who’s never gone through puberty as a young male, I naively say (and hope to the fucking Gods) they won’t be doing any of that before they’re 16 (at the very earliest). He laughs in my face, loudly, and says, “They’re not sharing a room. You don’t get to decide everything.”
Ugh. I hate when he says that. And for the record, I don’t decide everything I just do more research than he does.
I think this is one of those times where people who’ve raised kids would say, “You’ve got to pick and choose your battles.” Meaning, this isn’t one of them. And they’d probably be right because eventually, very soon, they’ll be making their own choices. So, let’s all just raise our hands and pray whatever they choose is as cute as this (heart. puddle. floor). See, it could be worse (AKA better), Seth.
But seriously, did you share rooms growing up? Seth did and I didn’t – maybe that’s why our opinions differ? Yesterday, after going on a rant about how cool bunk beds were my friend said to me, “Well, why don’t you and Seth get bunk beds if they’re so awesome?” Am I the only one that has dreams of bunk bed pirate ships and sturdy bunk bed forts?! What is this world coming to?
I’m not, though….