There was one night when I woke up on the beach outside my hut in Koh Pah-Ngan dribbling in the sand next to my best mate. We both resembled Ribena berries on one side of our faces and a rogue flea bitten dog had started licking my big toe. Good times.
Sleep was for the weak back then and I could never envisage a moment in my future when I’d holler at my husband, ‘I just want a good mattress, that’s all I want’ before crumpling into a hormonal heap. But there I was on that drizzly Monday evening, seven months knocked up and edging into ‘nesting’ territory. I think as a mother you end up pretty much living in your bed in those first few months. (I ended up sleeping with a packet of raisins under my pillow for a week without realising last month – the bed becomes part sleep vessel, part storage cupboard).
I remember when Mae was born, we popped her in the baby carrier at the end of the bed and had a sushi picnic before watching Game of Thrones – or as much as we could before the mewling began. The bed was literally the mothership.
Then we moved back to London from Amsterdam and panic-bought a dodgy mattress from a shop that has since mysteriously disappeared and months of bad sleep on that shoddy sponge-like fire hazard culminated in me slobbering on Matt’s shoulder. Middle class problems, indeed.
So Matt went out to feather the nest as best he could. In essence he Googled ‘best mattress’ and ‘best bed’ and came up with the Tinder match of sleeping dreams. A Casper mattress and a Made.com bed. The whole caboodle came to just over £1,200 that we didn’t have but in those crazed nesting moments who needs a weekly shop when you can sleep soundly at night.
I cried once more when it all arrived and then, luckily for Matt, the tears eased up as the sleep increased. I had forgotten what a good night’s sleep felt like – something I shall cherish as we edge into newborn territory.
But as our house currently undergoes intense renovations – we currently have three walls and are lacking a kitchen roof – the one thing I know before this baby comes is that there’s a safe nook upstairs. A sleep-inducing nest where we can hole up for those first few weeks of this little nipper’s life and pretend the drilling noise downstairs is the gentle lapping of water on a Thai beach.
Bed time
- Nothing saves money like staying in bed.
Going out to breakfast can be as cheap as a £4.50 for bacon and egg sandwich or £3 for a pastry and a coffee. Going out to dinner can be as expensive as a £15 for some pasta or up to £20 for a steak. It makes way more sense to stay in, get dinner delivery, or whip up a quick bowl of pasta.
- There’s no dress code.
Going to a fancy dinner requires you to put product in your hair and iron a shirt. Dinner in bed requires nothing more than sweatpants.
- You’ll have more time to catch up on your favourite show.
Seriously, who has time to go out to dinner and stay up to date with Game of Thrones. Dinner in bed can kill two birds with one stone, and keep your friends from spoiling all the drama.
- You’ll get Instagram fame.
Everyone knows that a brightly coloured cup of orange juice and a heaping pile of pancakes are aesthetically pleasing when placed a-top clean white linens. Been there, ate that. Swap those pancakes out for a big, juicy burger and your dinner in bed will be so novel, it’ll rack up more Likes than your friend’s brunch.
- Wine in bed makes way more sense than coffee.
As long as it’s white! While coffee in bed is a go-to, it can actually be counter-productive. Studies show that a glass or two of red wine is good for you, so you’ll be treating yourself in more ways than one. When you feel the warm, fuzzy feeling set in — you’ll be exactly where you belong.
- It’s an excuse to get into bed earlier.
This ‘bed time’ content is from Casper.com
