I do not like being touched when I am trying to fall asleep. Let me be clear, I don’t mind being touched prior to falling asleep. I don’t mind hugs, shoulder rubs, hand holding; those are all good, but in the moments before I fall asleep, I don’t like any skin touching my skin. I like to fall asleep comfortable in my own space and fortunately for me, my husband gets that.
Unfortunately for me, my husband is in China, and my bed buddy this week has been my four-year-old daughter who does not appreciate my need for space. When her dad is gone, she likes to have sleep-overs in my bed. This has been a long week of glowing-blue night lights, stuffed animals, and feet touching me.
This week I have felt like the five-year-old me buckled in the backseat of our old Ford Torino with my brother on full-pest-alert. I have found myself screaming inside my head, “STAY ON YOUR SIDE! QUIT TALKING!” While on the outside I am quietly telling Ella to, “Skooch over a tiny bit.”
Last night, Ella plopped herself horizontally in the middle of the bed and piled countless stuffed animals around her. After I mentioned that I needed a bit more room, she replied, “Mom, you have the biggest bed in the house. We could fit Meg, Cole, Daddy, and Chaucer (our dog) in this bed. You have a million-times enough room.”
I was too tired to argue. I curled into a fetal position in the three square feet she had left me, Ella’s feet tapping and tickling the small of my back, and screamed inside my head, “STOP TOUCHING ME!”