Sleepless in the Central Valley
Hotel stays just aren’t what they used to be when little,
space-saving kids transform into long-legged, restless,
space-eating teenagers.
It used to be so easy when we’d take vacations or go to travel
ball tournaments for baseball. A room with two queen beds or one
king and a pull-out sofa was fine for our family of four.
Sleepless in the Central Valley
Hotel stays just aren’t what they used to be when little, space-saving kids transform into long-legged, restless, space-eating teenagers.
It used to be so easy when we’d take vacations or go to travel ball tournaments for baseball. A room with two queen beds or one king and a pull-out sofa was fine for our family of four.
We’d put our sons in one bed and we’d be in the other one. Then, about half an hour later after a few kicks and yells and threats of violence, we’d split the boys up, with one in each bed right next to mom or dad – whose kicks and yells and threats of violence held more weight. They were still small enough that we could avoid being plunked by an arm or leg as they wriggled during sleep.
A few years back, the boys actually liked the idea of sleeping on the pull-out sofa, as it was something new and different – and it magically appeared from the couch.
This past weekend, as we arrived at a hotel in the Central Valley town of Ripon, our 16-year-old volunteered to sleep on the pull-out sofa, no doubt recalling the days of yore when he thought it was an adventure. On this night, it was a decision he’d come to regret.
My wife and I took the king-sized bed, with our 14-year-old sleeping the opposite way – his feet at my head – on one corner. The hotel didn’t have a room with two beds available, so we made due.
I was concerned about taking a toe or a knee to the face as we all went to sleep around 11:30 p.m., exhausted from our travels.
A couple hours later, in the dead of night, I heard my oldest son tossing, turning and mumbling as he tried to get comfortable on the sofa bed’s thin mattress.
He shifted positions as he tried to get comfortable, trying to sleep with his feet near the head of the couch, then by curling in up in one corner, away from the valley that was the center of the mattress. With each movement, the springy mattress coil squeaked, often loudly enough to stir me from sleep.
When 3 a.m. rolled around, that was enough. I climbed out of my king bed and told my half-asleep son to take my place. It’s one of the sacrifices parents make for their children.
But as soon as I got to what I thought would be a terrible place to sleep, I realized that my selfless act done to make sure that my kid would be rested for the next morning’s game actually benefited me.
Suddenly I had an entire – albeit smaller – bed to myself. No long toes poking me in the eye or knees pushing into my back. I wasn’t trying to squeeze under blankets that were weighted down by my 14-year-old who was asleep on top of the layers.
And what was an uncomfortably hard sofa bed mattress to my teen was a firm, back-supporting mattress to my 42-year-old frame. I fell back asleep quickly and was relatively rested the next morning. Not so rested that I’m going to trade in my couch at home for a sleeper sofa, but it was OK for one night.
This scenario will repeat throughout the summer, as we try to figure out how to sleep four people comfortably in one room. It’s never truly comfortable – physically or emotionally – when two teens used to going to their own bedroom and closing their door to keep parents away are forced to spend hours and hours with them.
In the end, getting the kids away from the distractions of everyday life and forcing the four of us to hang out in a hotel room for a day or two actually turns out to be quality family time – even if it means getting a flying elbow to the gut at 2 a.m. from a squirmy teen.
Adam Breen teaches newspaper and yearbook classes at San Benito High School and is a reporter for The Pinnacle. He is former editor of The Free Lance. He can be reached by e-mail at
ab****@pi**********.com
.
