Lehmo

An ony ‘Lehmo’ Lehmann

THE RADIO AND TV FUNNYMAN ON THE IMPORTANT ISSUES IN LIFE ‘So, are you getting a divorce?’ ‘No.’ ‘Separating?’ ‘No.’ ‘Trial separation?’ ‘No, we are still in love and we are very happy and we have no plans to leave each other.’

These are the questions that can often follow the revelation that my wife and I sleep in diff erent rooms.

It started for me recently when our four-year-old son was sick and when putting him to bed he asked if he could sleep in our bed. Our bed, which he refers to as ‘the family bed’, inferring some claim on it that is equal to both mine and my wife’s.

On a normal night he either goes to bed with Kel or he wanders into our bed at some point during the night. So, we thought that while he is sick he can go to bed in the family bed and stay for the whole night. It gets a little crowded with three in the bed — not to mention the dog and two cats. In fact, I suspect the dog and both cats, when chatting to each other during the day, also refer to it as ‘the family bed’.

‘How’d you sleep last night?’ asks Cat 1.

‘Started off being pushed around courtesy of a whole bunch of tossing and turning but eventually settled right on Dad’s face before he woke me up coughing and spluttering and whingeing like he had some sort of fur ball. I hate how much room the humans take up on the family bed.’

So, in an eff ort to off er our sick four-year-old a good night’s sleep I agreed to sleep in the spare room — not the family bed. There I was for the next eight hours — no dog, no cats, no son and no wife. I’d forgotten about the luxury of a queen-size bed. The joy of spreading out — I’ve spent the past fi ve years balancing on the edge of a king-size bed with the skill of an Olympic gymnast. Then, of course, there’s the comfort of having no interruptions.

My REM returned, my dreams returned and more than one hour of solid sleep returned (I actually got eight hours). I was woken up by a sliver of sunlight dancing through the gap beneath the blind and not a cat’s tail or my son’s hand or my dog’s butt! I bounced out of bed so energised that my wife wondered what was going on with me. I felt and, in my opinion, looked 10 years younger.

It turns out that sleep is really important and getting the right quality and the right quantity has a direct impact on your health. I had read about this most of my life but largely ignored it thinking that I knew better than well researched science.

So a dilemma was immediately presented to me.

Do I maintain my spot in the family bed, respecting the unit of humans and animals to whom I have dedicated and committed my life? I should embrace any opportunity I have to further bond with the ones that I love the most. This would surely bring us closer together and it would maintain the culturally accepted norm of sharing the family bed ... I get that the dog and cats may not be as culturally accepted, but just roll with me for argument’s sake.

Or do I turn tail and take up residence in the spare room? Following which my energy levels will go through the roof, my productivity will improve and I’ll look like a teenager for the fi rst time in 30 years.

An added benefi t of moving to the spare room would be that those on the family bed would now have more space. Can you tell I’ve already pushed this argument?

It seems like a no-brainer but the experiment lasted only three nights until our son was better.

As much as the health benefi ts were obvious I felt like a fl at mate and not part of the family unit. So, it’s back to the family bed where I can balance on the edge, get woken up every hour and push the tail out of my face — but I’ll be with my pack!

Having said that, I will be the fi rst to raise my hand to valiantly head back to the spare room at the next sign of illness.