Circadian Dysrhythmia

SLEEP IS SACRED.  Period. 

It has always been no less than a religious, precious commodity to me.  My bed is my sanctuary.  I have a sleep machine, sun-blocking curtains in my bedroom, and a fan.  Ahhhh, a sanctuary indeed. 

My haven of rest has become a source of  anything but spiritual restoration as of late, as I have had quite unspiritual thoughts about what I am going to do to my spouse if he doesn't SHUT THE HELL UP WITH THAT SNORING!  Half of my thoughts have not only been unspiritual, but some of them illegal.  The man could wake the dead with all the noise he makes while sleeping.

"It's not like I do it on purpose.  I can't help the fact that I snore!"  And I can't help the fact that I can't sleep next to a damn buzz saw, now can I?   It's probably a Mommy thing, but I am a light sleeper.  Hence my wanting a bedtime divorce.  Lastnight as I tried to calm myself from my rage and drift off to sleep, I fantasized of having a house big enough that he could have his own bedroom.  On the opposite end of the house from mine.  With soundproof walls. 

It's true, he can't help it, and I know he doesn't do it intentionally. He knows he snores.  He knows it keeps me up.  Yet there's nothing done about it.  Yes, he's tried strips and sprays.  He even went to an ENT to have an eval after the sleep apnea test was negative.  After months of me telling him, "There is something anatomically and structurally wrong with you.  Normal people don't sound like that when sleeping."  I was right.  And after a surgery that has a 50/50 chance of working, it may reduce his snoring issue.  If the odds were a little better, I would have suggested it a long time ago.  Even if I had to turn tricks to finance it. 

He works.  At his job and here.  I know he's tired and it's not exactly fair to expect him to sleep on the couch night after night.  But, he does have the annoying ability to fall asleep anytime, anywhere.  I do not.  So, it makes sense for him to sleep elsewhere, right?  To my sleep-deprived brain, it makes perfect sense. 

It makes even more sense after I rise from a fitful night of attempting to sleep and my beloved looks at me with this shit-eating grin and asks me how I slept.  I can see why women end up on death row after serving their spouses a drink with a splash of cyanide.  Sleep he will. 

In the meantime, I'm headin' to Starbucks to get a quad latte and research whether temporary insanity secondary to sleep deprivation will hold up in court.

Karmic

John's been under the weather.  He has a cold.  A common cold. 

We're about as different as two people can be, in many different areas.  When I get symptoms of an illness, I deny it until it's undeniable.  I'm feeling a little sinus pressure, must be the weather.  Fever of 104?  How did that happen?  It'll break.  I'll be fine.  Until I feel like ass, I'm not sick.  I can think my way out of it.  If I admit I'm sick then suddenly I feel sick. 

Not hubby.  If he sneezes, he settles in to the mindset that he is ill.  He moves in to this line of thinking, makes himself comfortable, and stays there.  I am highly amused by this.

My Facebook status read:  "Public Service Announcement: John has a cold. We will be accepting visitors this evening for those of you who want to come by and pay your last respects, as he is CLEARLY on his deathbed. That is all."

He asked for chicken noodle soup for dinner.  Not his favorite--but if that doesn't mean he's really sick, well then I just don't know what does.  He asked me if he had a fever.  He wanted advice as to what meds to take.  He punctuated his sentences with sniffles.  This whole dog and pony show reminds me of when Morgan and Chuck were little and would try to get out of school.  I texted his brother and parents to warn them of his inevitable demise.  Oh boy, did I have fun with this.     

"I'm glad something like me being sick ::sniff:: gives you sooooo much joy ::sniff::.", he smarted. 

Yeah, it does.  It's not the fact that he's sick, necessarily.  It's the whole production that accompanies his illness.  It's high quality entertainment. 

It's all fun and games 'til he gets the baby sick, which is unavoidable.  Then the joke's on me.

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Last year, we had a nest of yellow jackets under a tree.  John got stung every time he mowed the lawn.  My father suggested pouring gasoline down the hole and lighting it on fire.  Which he did.  And subsequently singed the hair off his leg.

Morgan and I were on the back deck when he comes limping back there, all "Y'all didn't HEAR that?"  From the way he was carrying on, you'dve thought we missed a bomb going off in the front yard.  With an explosion so forceful, he lost a limb. 

After he explains himself, Morgan and I laughed hysterically.  The whole sight was hilarious. 

Somewhere amidst this debacle, my sister calls and I try to coherently relay what's just happened.  It was a little difficult, as I was laughing so hard I found it hard to breathe, much less talk.  After she hears this, she asks why he would do something so "dumb". 

Because YOUR daddy told him to, I replied.

Yeah, did dad mention how that worked out for him when he tried it?

No.  What happened?

He ended up having to call the effin' FIRE DEPARTMENT!!




And just when I thought I couldn't possibly laugh any more . . . . .

Ahhhhh, goodtimes.

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I have often wondered why humans are equipped with some of the physical and anatomical attributes we have.  The appendix , for instance, has yet to be proven useful.  It serves no purpose and can eventually lead to problems.  Why do we have it?  I dunno.  It could hold the answer to the cure for several terminal illnesses for all I know, but that has yet to be revealed.

And why do we need hair in some of the places we have it?  Like on my chin?  What evolutionary purpose could that have possibly served? 

I can now answer why I have hair on my forearms.   

Lastnight, I went to light the grill to cook dinner.  I've done this no less than a hundred times and never had any problems.  I completely forgot about the faulty regulator that has been replaced since I last used it.  I was used to lighting it with the broken one--it never allowed enough gas in to the grill. 

The good news is, the new regulator works---all too well.  The bad news is, I have no hair on my right forearm.  It was singed off from the enormous flame that came shooting out of the grill when I lit it.  Whoosh!

So, turns out, one of the purposes of hair on the arm is to protect flesh from being melted off when an idiot, like myself, tries to light a gas grill.  It's the only thing that saved my arm from second degree burns.  My hand got fried, my arm is no worse for the wear.  No need to thank me for this little nugget of invaluable information, just doin' my part to help my fellow man. 

John was nothing but empathetic and helpful--outwardly.  On the inside, I know he was laughing his ass off. 

And I would have been, too.

Rocky Top

I just got home yesterday from our anniversary trip.  John decided we should spend it in Kodak in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee.  I was in it strictly for a change of scenery.  Traveling with an infant is far from romantic or a vacation, so my expectations were low.  Our getaway far exceeded them, and I'm finding out I kinda dig the Volunteer State. 

We arrived Thursday afternoon after a four hour car ride, that I must admit, wasn't all that bad (I HATE riding in a car for long periods of time).  The ride went quickly and was pretty uneventful.  We stopped at a gas station for a potty break and I really thought we were gonna be taken hostage by some pretty mean lookin' mountain folk, but other than that it was smooth sailing.  Once we got into Tennessee, I noticed something foreign . . . people actually know and obey the rules of the road.  Slower traffic actually merges in to the right lane to allow faster cars to pass.  What the hell?  This happened over and over again.  Yeah, this is lookin' like my kind of place, for real.

That night we made our way in to Sevierville for dinner.  I had fried chicken that tasted just like my Mom's, which is no easy feat.  It was scrumptious.  We were served apple fritters as a starter.  These were big hushpuppy-looking things that tasted like apple bread and served with warm homemade apple butter.  To.  Die.  For.  We mighta accidentally ordered some to go.  Oops.

Friday morning we went shopping.  Yes, I went shopping.  There were numerous outlet malls and I am an outlet whore.  We ducked in to a burger joint to feed the baby, after I scored some great deals at my favorite stores.  In a sea of orange (everyone in Tennessee wears orange) I barely noticed this young man wearing an orange t-shirt, until he walked by me and I saw the front of it.  It was a Browns shirt.  We talked briefly and turns out Cleveland has a huge following there.  Who knew?  These people are serious about their football--it's a mainstream religion in Tennessee.  Now I'm really diggin' this state.

We made our way in to Knoxville that evening, which was about a half-hour drive from where we were staying.  The motherland.  The college football mecca.  At least for John.  I was promised ribs, so I happily complied.  If a picture is worth a thousand words, I really needn't say more . . .

Neyland Stadium

John's Disneyland--the UT Bookstore

He showed amazing restraint in the store.  He bought Riley a hat (in case y'all couldn't tell from the ridiculous number of pictures I uploaded to Facebook), Sandy a toy, and himself a t-shirt at my insistence. 

Too cute for color TV!

We then headed down to a popular restaurant on the river.  We waited for nearly an hour for a table.  This should speak volumes, as I am rarely willing to wait at all, much less forty minutes.  Keith Urban was in town and this place was busier than a one-legged man in an ass kickin' contest.  There were folks everywhere.  We were finally seated and I ordered a full rack of ribs with mac 'n cheese and slaw.  I'm glad there was no chance of running in to someone I knew, as I tore in to them like I was eating my last meal, 'cause I'm classy like that.  Dee-lish.  This meal alone justified the four hour car ride. 

It was well worth the wait . . . and me looking like a pig.

Saturday we had a chance to visit with family.  We spent the rest of the day at the hotel in the pool or napping.  Most of the time it seems John and I are more roommates than husband and wife, so it was nice to slow down and spend some time together.  Awesome. 

I have visited Tennessee a few times and have always found the people to be super friendly.  Riley was oohed and aahed over everywhere we went.  Everyone was nice and helpful.  On a previous trip to Tennessee, I stopped at a gas station to use the facilities and ask for directions.  Upon walking in the store, the man at the register said hello and asked how "mama 'n 'em" were doing.  I immediately looked over my shoulder to see who he was talking to, as I knew he didn't know my "mama 'n 'em".  I was surprised by it and found it ridiculously charming.  By the end of my stay I had grown accustomed to answering, "Just fine.  Thanks for askin'".  How can you not love a place like that?

Yesterday, we decided to come home by way of Boone, so we could check out my brother-in-law's new digs.  The quickest route was closed due to construction, so we detoured through some beautiful countryside.  Our detour took us north to Virginia, back in to Tennessee, and finally in to North Carolina.  Lush green trees, winding roads, and breath-taking views of the mountains made the thirty extra minutes more than tolerable.  The digs were nice too.  He has a gorgeous rustic condo with a stellar view . . . . that I will be visiting again.  Soon.  I'm sorta taking it upon myself to make this my winter vacation home.

I called him a whore.  Several times.

This little escapade was well worth my efforts and made me feel slightly guilty for bitchin' in the first place.  I mean, any state that is the subject of a John Denver song has to be a goodtime, right? 

Absolutely.

Lessons

My hubby just informed me that I need a sitter for Sunday night for about two hours.  Our anniversary is Sunday and apparently, we're going out.  With it upon us, I started thinking about things I've learned over the last year. 

1.  Twisting an ankle and falling in the Seattle airport is not a great way to start your honeymoon.  Subsequently sobbing through the lifeboat drill as you're about to embark on your fabulous Alaskan cruise ain't so peachy either.  (Loudly sobbing.  You would have thought someone just died).  For the rest of our voyage I would inevitably hear someone say, "Wasn't that the girl . . . . " as I passed them.  Not to mention this little episode caused my husband to seriously reconsider his life choices.

2.  Being on the opposite seaboard from my children for a week is not an option.  Next time, they'll have to come with.  By day three I was constantly pointing out things they would love about what we were doing and getting ultra-paranoid about "what if something happens".

3.  I come from a remarkable family.  My husband's is pretty fantastic as well.  I am amazed at how much moral support we received and continue to get from both.  My girlfriends rock too.

4.  My parents are getting too old to be trusted to go to the doctor by themselves.  Clusterf*#k if I ever did see one. 

5.  Raising teenagers is not for the faint of heart.  Whew!  I have been thrilled and contemplated boarding school within hours of one another.  The good news is, neither Morgan or Chuck are as bad as I was.  I can do an entire post on this statement alone.  Ohmygoodness . . . .

6.  Babies come when they are good and damn ready.  Walking, Texas Pete, sex, and all of that other crap did not work for me.  I tried all of them.  Several times.  He wasn't budging.

7.  My eleven-pound Pekingese can put any doula or midwife to shame.  She was by my side at every moment, eager to please.  Although she has yet to forgive me for bringing "the thing" home with me six months ago.

8.  I am old.  My body, emotions, nor mental state is what they were when I had my first two children.  I was ill-prepared for the roller coaster that is childbirth and the postpartum period.  Bat.  Shit.  Crazy.  Apparently, pregnancy hormones morph me in to a scathing bitch.  I'm still workin' on my excuse for that currently, as I can no longer blame my body chemistry.  Dammitall.

9.  The incoherent babble that comes out of my mouth when communicating with babies or animals is inexplicable.  If someone overheard my "conversations" with Riley, they would think I was an escaped mental patient.  I call my son "Skinky", who the hell comes up with stuff like that?

10.  Too much of my identity is wrapped up in my career.  I miss certain aspects of my job terribly.  Being unemployed is something I am still having to become accustomed to, and it's been well over a year.

11.  Every time I think we are well on our way to getting ahead or having a little nest egg squirreled away, something inevitably happens.  Our savings account balance being above a certain amount is a sure-fire way to invite disaster of some sort. 

12.  Giving a teenager a driver's license and some keys to a car changes their personality.  True story.

13.  I did not marry the only brainless man on the planet (sorry, honey).  They are all effin' clueless about certain things.  The things I think he "should know" because they are BLATANTLY OBVIOUS often require pen and paper for me to spell them out for him.  Turns out "penis" and "forethought" don't exactly go together.  Sheesh.  But . . . .

14.  My husband is teachable and has come a looooong way in the last six months.  Just this morning he decided to work from home today so I could sleep late (Riley is discovering new and exciting things that just have to be done at 2 a.m.).  Uh-huh.  A long way.   Housework?  Yup, he does that.  Errands, groceries, you name it.  All without me having to break out the notebook and Sharpie.  Yippee!

15.  Babies have the ability to turn the most reserved people in to babbling idiots . . . it's amazing to watch.

16.  Having an MBA does not guarantee one a lucrative job in this economy.  I really thought I was going to have to be institutionalized during John's job search last Fall.

17.  Asking one's spouse to join you at a family function at the 'rents' while the Reds are fighting to clench the title in their division is not going to get a favorable response.  Ever. 

18.  Motherhood is by far the most challenging and yet the most emotionally fulfilling job I have ever had.  It's also the most thankless . . .

19.  When caring for an infant, "me-time" isn't optional, it's mandatory.  For real.

20.  My sister and I excel at bein' band whores and throw kick-ass house concerts.  Just sayin'.

21.  Do not make statements such as "I'll never (insert sanctimonious statement here)".  I think about that every time I get in to our minivan that we swore we would never own.  (I LOVE that van.  LOVE IT!).

22.  True friends are hard to come by, so cherish them.  You know, the I've-got-your-back-no-matter-what friends?  The others seem to scatter to the four winds when the goin' gets tough.

23.  Fatherhood makes my husband more attractive. I can't really explain this one, as it defies logic.

24.  As much as we have been through in the last year, the wedding, job searches, teenage drama, pregnancy, childbirth, etc. I still could not imagine my life without John. 

Here's to many more life lessons . . . . as long as we can learn them together, I think we'll be just fine.