Sick & Tired.

What marriage has taught me so far:
cuddling with your BF is one thing, but sleeping with your husband is another.

Cuddling with your BF is all about feeling safe and loved and slightly rebellious, because it's past midnight and he's sound asleep on your 'BYU approved' couch.

Sleeping with your husband is all about whose elbow is in whose eye, who's clinging to the edge, who's being a bed-hog and who's about to kill whom.

I learned this a few nights ago after feeling the covers being slowly pulled off my body. I rolled over to see the husband, sleeping soundly, wad them up into a ball and hug them like a giant teddy bear.

I mean, what is a girl to do in this situation?..
I couldn't just rip them back.. for several reasons.

The two most prominent of which being that he has the upper-body strength of a gorilla, and he looked so gosh-darn adorable with that boyish smile on his sleeping face.

You see, the problem is that we both see our sleeping situation very differently.
I think that, seeing as we sleep on a 'queen'-sized bed, the queen in this relationship should call the shots. (Keep in mind that I am a fair and benevolent ruler.)

He thinks that it's like this:

When it should actually be like this:

And it doesn't help that we both prefer to sleep on our stomachs with one arm under the pillow, the other hand nestled by the face, one leg bent in slightly and the other foot sticking out from under the covers for temperature control.

It's been unanimously decreed the only and best way to sleep.

However, it creates problems when it becomes a night-long joust over who gets the prime knee position, who gets to sprawl their arm across no man's land and who is knotting up the covers in an unconscious attempt to get a leg free.

Things would be so much easier if we both slept on our sides in the perfect spooning position and never moved...

I mean, I hardly move at all, but the husband does.

He openly admits to waking up sometimes with his head at the foot of the bed and his feet on the pillow.

I haven't actually witnessed this first-hand, but I'm preparing myself to.

And it REALLY doesn't help that I've had a cold for the past three days.

Because, let's face it, there's no such thing as blowing your nose 'quietly' and feeling like their head is about to explode makes some wives cranky.

Of course, the pros outweigh the cons.

Sleeping with your husband means you always have a personal heater.

It means never feeling lonely or scared of what might be in the dark.

It means waking up to a kiss on the forehead and a squeeze of the hand.

And if worst came to worst, it means there's always someone there to bludgeon the bad guys with the axe handle that's hidden in closet. Hypothetically speaking.. of course..

But probably what marriage has taught me most, so far, is that it's possible to love someone more than you love a perfect night's sleep. And that stapling the covers to my side of the bed is becoming a very plausible option.