My husband and I are incompatible sleepers.
I don’t know how we’ve made it this far.
I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to punch somebody in the face as badly as I did when he once told me to “just sleep!” when I couldn’t nap one day after our 1st baby was born. “Just figure it out!” I wanted to knock his teeth out.
I’m not a napper. Never have been. Even in pre-school and kindergarten, when everyone else was curled up in their sleeping bags on their little cots, I was tossing and turning.
The Barbie world I had created in my bedroom kept my anxiety levels up during “quiet time”. That one Barbie’s hair I hacked off to double as one of the boys had gone all wrong and now she looked like Ellen DeGeneres instead of Ken (I love her, btw).
If you’ve read some of my previous posts, you might have learned that I need a dark room, box fan turned up high enough to mask a freight train blowing on my face, a glass of water in arms reach and no one touching me in order to sleep.
My husband, on the other hand, needs the t.v. on.
It gets worse.
We had Christmas pictures taken (the first family photos with our baby girl included) to use as our Christmas cards this past year. I decided to get the family matching Christmas pajamas and I strung garland and white Christmas lights on our headboard and the 4 of us snuggled up together in our bed for the photos.
Wouldn’t you know that my husband loved the “cozy atmosphere” this created so much so that he insisted on leaving those decorations up!
It gets worse.
He leaves the damn lights on right above our heads. All. Night. Long.
Picture “Bad Boys II” on the flat screen (Will Smith is so sexy), Christmas lights above your head and an alarm clock circa 1998 playing “We Are Family…I got all my sisters with me!” On repeat at 6:45 AM, only to be silenced when you KICK said husband in the shin.
He sleeps in a fucking zoo.
All of which led me to my inevitable move into the living room. On a mattress. On the floor. That I have to lift and lean up against the railing that leads down to our basement.
“Why don’t you just send him into the living room?? Surely he can watch t.v. In there!”
Yes I could.
And then he’d come into our bedroom in the morning, go into the bathroom and turn on the damn bright light without closing the door first because that’s too hard.
Then he’d open and close the drawers like he was trying to lock up a loose snake because that’s the only level of noise and force he understands.
Then the baby would be crying in her room and before I could reach the monitor to check her status, he’d come over and ask “Do you hear the baby? Should you go make her a bottle? What time did she fall asleep last night? Did she sleep through the night? What’s the temperature supposed to be today? Is there frost on the table on the back deck? Because that means I have to start the car. Did you buy more sugar? I need light cream for my coffee, did you get some at the store yesterday? It’s not half and half, is it? It really does taste different. Why is there only one grocery store that sells light cream, anyway? Isn’t Bad Boys II so funny? Did you see the part where Mike and Marcus interrogate the daughters boyfriend?? That’s gonna be me! I’m gonna do that! He drives a sick Escalade in the movie. Do you know how much gas those things burn? That’s why I got the Pilot. Have you had the Pilot maintenanced yet? You know it needs an oil change, right? Have you had that done? You need to call Honda. Did you use the car vacuum I gave you? You shouldn’t let the kids snack in the car! Those Puffs are all over the place! I find them everywhere! The pollen is crazy right now, it’s covering the cars. My allergies are killing me. Don’t open the windows today! I know you do it when I’m not here. I can tell when you do it! Have you opened them lately?”
And then I knock his teeth out.