These days I’m finding it unusually hard to get out of bed. It’s not the time change, hateful and inhumane though it is. And it’s not that I spend each sleeping minute lumped upon by three dead-weight felines, whose combined corpulence equals thirty-six pounds of purring, furry, gelatinous cat. No. It’s the fact that our new mattress pad begins each night with about as much give as a slab of concrete, but by morning it has the structural integrity of warm marshmallow.
Here’s a tip: Do not buy a mattress that tries, night after night, to eat you.
Once upon a time, investing in a Memory Foam mattress topper seemed like a sensible plan. Long before we met, my husband — who had taken to sleeping on the floor of his college dorm room — finally broke down and purchased a bed. Since habit dictated that even carpeting was too soft for sleep, he asked for the firmest mattress they had. Unfortunately, they delivered. He was thrilled. Plywood would have been softer, and asphalt more forgiving. Life was perfect.
As it turned out, when I married my husband his bed came with him. While I immediately abhorred the thing, hubs’s turnaround came more slowly. Recently, after years of tingling fingers, aching shoulders, and dead arms, I made an executive decision: It was time for a new mattress.
Here’s another tip: Executive decisions should only be made after a full night of sleep.
To our surprise, mattresses, while they seem simple, cost as much as both our cars put together, but without the handy test drive to make sure everything feels okay. Time for a new plan. And so, several weeks later, a thick, gray, queen-sized expanse of foam came into our lives. Filled with enthusiasm, we tore open the box, poured it out, and ripped off the plastic bag in which it came. Then we stood back as it slowly unfurled itself, like a prehistoric beast stretching after a long winter’s sleep. We watched it rapturously. Soon life would be perfect, our dreams delightful and uninterrupted, our nights unmarred by discomfort.
The cats were more skeptical, sniffing the air around it with great distrust, jumping away when we nudged it, and daring one another to cross its dimpled expanse. Dropping them in the center sparked duck-and-cover maneuvering as they tried to escape this brand new enemy.
Final tip: Sometimes cats have a good point.
Bubbling with anticipation, we ignored their fears. Instead, we tossed it into place on top of the old mattress, fitted the sheets over it, and waited for night to fall. To our horror ((mine more than my husband’s)), though, when bedtime hit we quickly discovered that our revolutionary new Memory Foam mattress topper morphs into a four-inch-thick brick in the cold evening air. We didn’t so much crawl into bed as on top of it. The pad hesitated ((which led my husband to quip, “Foam has slow memory. Needs more RAM” in a stilted, computer-esque voice.)) and then, with an almost audible sigh, it slowly began to give under our weight and warmth. Fighting back giggles, we watched each other sink until our bodies had formed deep, steep-sided troughs from which we then fought to free ourselves each time we rolled over, reached for our bedside glasses of water, or flailed for the snooze button. In the morning we excavated ourselves with effort, as the sleep-softened foam beneath us sucked at our tired bodies and the untouched, cold foam beside and between us formed impossible, unyielding walls. Once we had escaped, a glance back at the bed showed the outlines of our sleeping positions, as crisply formed as chalk lines around a murder victim.
It has been thus for weeks now. While we are gradually growing accustomed to this new arrangement and the mild spring days make for softer nights, well, it’s still no wonder I was late to work today: My mattress tried to have me for breakfast.
Not only did my husband buy the memory foam mattress, he also fell in love with an enormous sherpa blanket to go on the bed. That thing has to weigh 20 pounds! Once you’re sucked in and covered up, you’re in bed to stay!
We bought a new mattress a few years ago because my hubby was complaining of back aches (the mattress was almost 20 y/o) So I bought a firm mattress supposedly for back problems. It made them worse! So I caved in and bought one of those foam toppers. We don’t like it either, but it’s better than without it at this point. I’m too cheap to buy another mattress. **sigh**
I totally feel for you. Having gone through the nightmares of mattress shopping last year….I totally get it. Our next mattress will be two twins pushed together since my husband and I still don’t agree on what a mattress should feel like: he can have the soft, smooshy pillow-top that he wants, and I can get another Tempurpedic.
But for now, we’re making do, because you’re right, a mattress is EXPENSIVE. You could also try topping the foam with a down/cotton mattress pad.
Hope you get some sleep soon.
@Katie – Yeah, the sinking was pretty funny while it happened. And then we discovered the true nature of the mattress pad!
@Mama Zen – That’s hilarious! Made me laugh out loud. As if it’s not hard enough to get out of bed in the mornings, right?
@Jennifer – That’s almost EXACTLY what we’re going through! We don’t want to buy a new mattress or mattress topper, since both are expensive. And the new topper is still better than the mattress by itself, so we’re stuck with it for now.
@Amy – That’s a fantastic idea! I hadn’t thought to do that. Might have to consider it whenever we do get around to changing out our mattress.
Hey Caryn! Thanks for visiting and commenting!
Ahh, beds. My husband’s came with the marriage as well. Hated it, but hated having to share it even more. It was way harder than the bed I had growing up, and I’m a WILD sleeper. I feel like I have to sleep hugging the edge so I don’t elbow him in the ribs or knee a kidney. I wish we could afford the California king. We slept on one on our honeymoon and that was pure bliss.
Our two cats- neither more than about 8-10 lbs- can singlehandedly triangulate the single spot on a mattress to provide maximum comfort for them, and minimum foam-below and covers-above for either of us. We also have two dogs, each six times their feline siblings’ size, who have the equally amazing ability to curl up into small balls when THEY get up on a bed. Which, of course, they do.
(I’m here from your recent comment on moi, which brought me many smiles knowing I’d found somebody new, but which puzzled me slightly until I looked at your blogroll. Ah, Joss. She does tend to attract My Kinda People.)
Tee. Hee.
Oh, I like you already.
We have had almost the same experience. We inherited my in-laws adjustable beds (head and foot raise and lower, like a hospital bed). After a few years we replaced the original foam mattresses with Memory Foam ones. They suck, er, attempt to eat us. What’s worse is if I don’t get into the exact right spot initially — once I have lain in a spot, it remains indented, sucking me in, until the next day.
At our other house we have conventional mattresses with a 4″ memory foam pad on top. That makes the most scrumptiously comfortable bed EVAH.
@Christine – We have a queen-sized bed, and at the risk of sounding cold I do sometimes wish it were bigger. Alas, our bedroom is tiny, and we’re lucky to fit this thing in it, so no king-size bed for us…ever.
@Ray – LOL! I know exactly what you mean! How is it possible for cats to take up so much space?
@Kiersten – I had fun reading your blog, too. Will definitely be back!
@Kmkat – Oh, no! Your memory foam sounds even worse than ours! Ours, at least, forgets after a while. A long while, yes, but still…
All my friends who’ve switched to memory foam mattresses had a terrible time at first and then ended up loving them, but I am not so convinced. I plan on springing for a new mattress and bed this year, but I just want old-fashioned and NORMAL (which is very unlike my approach to the rest of life!).
Also I lock my feline beasts out of my room overnight because I found I slept better without a facefull of paws and fur at 3 a.m. They’re sad, but I’m rested!