I have a few ideas for my blog post today, but I’m going to tell you about the most annoying one.
He heads off to bed last night, at about 11, and I am following closely behind. I pick up his socks that he’s left on the lounge room floor, and also his empty wine glass. I turn the TV off and check that the front door is locked. I check the thermostat to make sure the kids haven’t set the central heating for 37 degrees, deposit his wine glass in the kitchen, his dirty socks in the laundry, turn the lights off, put the dog out, and stick my head in on princess because she has a tendency to play with dolls in the middle of the night.
I get to our room about 10 minutes later and he says “I’ve been waiting for you!”
“Oh, you have?” which really means ‘well you could have helped me and then you wouldn’t have had to wait.’
I go to our ensuite and emerge 3 minutes later to find him already asleep.
They say it takes the average person about 7 minutes to fall asleep. I would like to suggest that it’s thanks to people like my husband that the average is so low. If it were averaged on mothers, I would venture to guess that it would be somewhere more in the region of an hour and a half. And that’d be a good day.
So I get into bed with him already snoring, and I say “Hey, your snoring” to which he replies
“I was not, I wasn’t even asleep yet”
I beg to differ.
Naturally he returns to sleep in less than a minute and starts snoring loudly while I look at the roof and think about the left over pasta that I forgot to put in the fridge. I wonder briefly if I should get up and do it, or if I can just leave it and pretend that I never remembered.
I decide to forget it and treat Beau (the dog) to spaghetti bolognaise for breakfast.
So I’m laying there, and hubby is snoring. Louder and louder. I tap him on the arm ever so lovingly, “Sweetie, your snoring”
“Mmmm?” and he stops.
For about 5 seconds.
So I try a constant patting of his arm.
And I try gently pushing him.
And I try whispering in his ear.
After 45 minutes of looking at the roof, tapping his arm and making my mental to-do list, I cannot be nice anymore. Especially now that I realise how much stuff there is to do before our weekend away. And especially since I have to do all that stuff by myself, because somebody has to work. How unreasonable.
So I try a passive-aggressive-bouncy-roll-over-manouver in the hope that the bouncing bed will wake him. I have “I’m sorry dear, did I wake you?” at the ready
So I roll back the other way, a bit bouncier this time.
I end up doing bouncy circles like a 2-year-old, and it’s getting me no where.
If passive aggressive isn’t going to work, I’m going to try for aggressive.
I hit him. I flat-out hit my husband.
It doesn’t wake him but he stops snoring. And I glare at him because I wish I could sleep like the dead too.
He appears to have stopped for a bit and I have 30 minutes of quiet to drift into a lovely hazy pre sleep state.
You know when you hear a noise and the noise reaches your subconscious and becomes a part of your dream? Hubbys snoring was a telephone. One of those old school annoyingly shrill ones.
And I’m back to square one.
Now that it’s about 2am and I have been teased with a glimpse of potential sleep only to be ripped away by the chainsaw lying next to me, I have zero ability to be patient with him.
Each time a ripple escapes his slack open mouth I nudge, or kick, or shove. I briefly consider covering his mouth and nose, but quickly realise that no breathing equals no husband. And I’m not quite done with him yet.
We still have a mortgage to pay.
I do eventually get to sleep, but I am woken by the chainsaw every 20 minutes.
In. Out. In. Out.
By 4:30am I am pretty ready to smother him.
(This clip is an add. But it’s a damn good representation of the things that flash through a womans sleep deprived mind at 4am.)
At some point he shuts up long enough to allow me to drift into a deep enough sleep that I stop hearing him. It must be about 5.
Fast forward to 7:00 am
Hubby wakes up bright and chipper and says “Do you want a coffee or are you going to sleep in?”
I mumble something like, “sleeping thankyou snory head” and it’s lucky for him I’m too tired to ring his chipper little neck. However I’m not too tired to remember his substantial life insurance policy.
Two birds. One stone. Darling husband.
Sleep with one eye open. xo