All day long, I am cold. The kind of cold that settles into your bones and requires a hot shower to warm up. However, with that said, when I climb into bed at night, I am cold. My icy feet have caused my husband to yelp as I plant them on his leg. My husband is a literal HEATER, and he normally gets into bed first and warms it up. I fall asleep, curled into a ball to conserve body heat.
And then, some sort of weird chemical reaction occurs and I become the hottest person alive. I am no longer appreciative of his heater-like qualities. Our bed now feels like a sauna, and there is no way out! Every single part of me is hot and sweaty, even my eyelids.
If I had my way, all of the windows in our room would be wide open and the ceiling fan would be on supersonic speed. I would turn the heat off and turn the air conditioning on. I would position a fan directly at the foot of our bed.
Curiously, I did not have this problem until I had my daughter- pregnancy: the gift that keeps on giving.
It is very O.Henry: Before Emma, I was able to keep my body temperature normal. After Emma I cannot. The one thing that would alleviate my misery is the one thing I cannot do- because of Emma.
That one thing is to turn the heat off completely.
My husband laid down the law after we brought Emma home and said the house cannot get below 65 degrees. As I do like to think of myself as a compassionate mother, I did agree. However, I have resorted to drastic measures. In an effort to maintain my compassionate status while not expiring from heat stroke, I have closed AND blocked all of the heating vents in our room.
Most mornings, Thomas and I talked about our upcoming days over life changing coffee. As with many other couples, we tend to have the same conversation over and over…
The first topic we routinely discuss is Why Do We Have The Window Open When It Is Winter And The Heat Is On? As for the heat, I helpfully remind him that having the heat on is his bidding; I would be more than happy to turn it off completely. As for the window, I need fresh air. After six and a half years of marriage, I would have thought he knew the answer by now. Without the window at least cracked, I feel claustrophobic. (I realize that this borders on Slightly Crazy; I thank my mother. I am sure she is nodding in agreement when I say this, like it is the most normal thing in the world.)
After that discussion, we move on to Why Is The Fan Turned Up To The Supersonic level? It is well documented that I get hot when I sleep. So hot in fact, that I routinely change my clothes as they are soaking wet. (The Night Sweats are not reserved for those magical first two weeks home from the hospital with a newborn at my house.) A fan can lower the temperature in the room by at least five degrees, and since The Heat Is On, I have to utilize all resources at my disposal so as to not spontaneously combust.