Bunk Bed Envy

This weekend, Big M and I replaced the Lightening McQueen toddler bed owned by every other little boy in the United States and the crib never used by either of my children with a set of bunk beds.  Little M is in LOVE with his new bed, as any person who’s spent every night for the last three years in a tiny bed covered by a hard, laminated mattress would be once finally entering the wonderful world of normal-sized beds.

Last night, after a particularly exhausting day, I was making Little M’s bed with his new Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle sheets and I found myself lingering up there on that top bunk for a few extra moments longer than necessary.  It just looked so cozy, so private.

I was insanely jealous of Little M in that moment.

It was like having your own personal, cloud-covered room floating in the sky where you can do whatever you want and no one can see you or bother you. And since it was 7pm, Little M was going to get to spend the rest of the night in that little haven.  No dishes to wash, no bills to pay, no baths to give, no floors to wash, no lunchboxes to pack, no work to be done, nothing.  And he has NO CLUE what a gift that is.

Youth really is wasted on the young.

I can’t count how many times I wish I could just crawl into a private, little, cozy space and just be left alone for a while. I’m not new to the idea; as a child my parents often would find me huddled in the back of the hall closet with a book and a flashlight.  Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.

But as adults, it is something we don’t get to do nearly enough.  We don’t get to hide from our own lives enough.  There is no metaphorical top bunk haven for most of us.  We steal time when we can, but it is it enough to keep us sane?

I leave you with this awesome scene from the HYSTERICAL show The Middle, where mom of three Frankie uses the restroom at her job to steal a few minutes of “me time.”

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