My Parents' Bed.

Note: (Originally posted on Feb 20, 2013 on Facebook... wanted to document it here for my daughter in the future.)

 My Parents' Bed.

When I was a little girl, I used to love to crawl into my parents' bed. It was this epic, overwhelming feeling of massive pillows and blankets and comfort and security... Plus? I was wrapped between two people who loved me immensely.

My parents' bed smelled amazing. I guess that's because it smelled like them. It's probably the same 'kid-smell thing' that you experience when you don't want your mom to wash your favorite bunny or blankie or bear (or whatever your favorite toy is.) My parents' bed is that "memory smell" for me.

It's funny. Apart from jumping on it and playing on it, I have no memory of cuddling in that bed with my brother (although I'm 100% certain we did as we are only 26 months apart) in MY world, it was only ever me and my parents alone in the bed... Snuggles coming from both sides.

I remember crawling into that bed when I was feeling sick (this ranges from 6 or 7 to 16-17...) and the bed literally MADE me feel better. (It ALSO gave me chocolate chip mint ice cream, Liptons cuppa soup and "Robin Hood Prince of Thieves"--wait that may have been my mom).

Skip to an (awful) decade later... I remember sleeping in that bed in & out for two weeks as I cried, hugged and reminisced with my mom and dad as we battled (and eventually lost) my mom's fight with ovarian cancer.

And lastly, I remember sleeping in that bed when I was pregnant with Veronica during the 2010 Olympics. I was lying in bed when I came down with the flu and Brad rushed me to Lions Gate Hospital for monitoring. I was fine, and I found comfort returning to the bed for some restful recovery.

It's an intuitive bed. It's a comfortable bed. It's a 'safe bed'. It may not hold magic, it may not cure cancer, but it calms children's nightmares. And it lets you know when something's wrong, even if it cannot heal you.

SO. When my daughter says to me last night (in tears) that it's "unfair" that Daddy and I get to sleep together in our room and she's sad 'cuz she has to sleep by her "lonesome" in her own bed, I get it.

So tonight, (as I often do), I put her down in our bed, and transferred her into her own room after she passed out. But tonight (which sparked this post) as she was falling asleep she comfortably tossed and turned and hugged the big pillows and sleepily said "I love cozy... (yawn) pillows." and something about "having room" and then she found a comfy spot and passed out as I tickled her back.

She made me think of the comfort of my parents' bed. She must feel the same way about ours. A parents' bed is a safe haven for children, full of love and trust and familiar smells. I guess it's my duty to make sure OUR bed has the same lifelong feelings and memories that my parents' bed has for me. I hope that means something for you.

Good night everyone, sweet dreams and remember to snuggle your child tight xo