Monday, July 2, 2012

The Robotic Elephant of Sleep

At first I thought maybe it was a one night thing.
That he was just really exhausted and his nose was stuffy or someting.
But now, on day 14, following night after night after NIGHT of snoring that is so loud I'm positive it can be heard from space,

now I'm starting to worry.

I've tried everything.
I've tried nudging him.
Telling him to turn over.
Poking him, kicking him in the shoulder blades, hitting him with, and even just *lightly* covering his face with a pillow.

It might not be such a problem if I wasn't such a light sleeper.
Something that has served me well through years of having babies in the house who might need attention.
If left to Captain Coma, all three little ones would have choked to death on mucus at one point or another as he slept a mere foot away.

He sleeps through anything.
Car alarms, and earthquakes included.

Thank God I don't.
It's saved our lives before.
There was one time when the next door neighbors had put a lit cigarette but into a dry tree stump that separated our properties and the faint crackle of embers was enough to wake me up.
I got us up, called for help, and got us all to safety.

In minutes there were flames 8 feet in the air.

So I've been conditioned.

Now I'm ruing the day.

I've tried to drown it out.
I turn on the fan and the cd player and the humidifier.
To any other person that alone would keep them awake, but THAT I can sleep through.

His incessant Hoover powered breathing three inches from my ear,
I cannot.

And I get bitter.
I imagine all sorts of evil things to do to him.
All sorts of un-Christian things.

Last night I imagined capturing large spiders and dangling them until JUST the right moment of inhale, then......RELEASE!
Into his mouth they'd descend.

I thought about how great it would be to own an air horn.

I wondered if holding a pillow over his face would REALLY kill him or if it would just put him into a deeper, more silent, sleep.

What's worse is that when I DO wake him and ask him to turn to the other side, he gets all confused.

"Justin, can you turn over?"
*insert confused, scowly stare*
"Can you TURN OVER please?"
*blink. blink.*
"What are you asking me?"
"I'm asking you to TURN OVER. Like I do every night. Multiple times."
Non-Discernable mumble...."I can't figure out what you're saying."
"TURN. OVER. On your other side. To sleep. Sleep good. Cheif wantum sleep."

Then he sighs like I'm asking him to write a six page essay on sleep, and turns over.
Only to start snoring literally 4 seconds later.

Last night I didn't drift off until after 3:00 and even that glorious three hours I slept was broken by episodes of wall vibrating snoring.
THREE HOURS? Seriously? This just can't be.

I'm trying t figure out nice ways to tell him I'm kicking him out of our room.
I've thought about pitching a tent in the yard and luring him in with smores placed on the path like in E.T.

He likes the outdoors.

I used to sort of place scorn on couples who had separate rooms.
Now I realize how fabulous it could be.
All that leg room.....

I tell people about his snoring and almost every time get back a look of concern and a comment about how "Sleep Apnea can really shorten your life expectancy" or something.
I nod, and inside am tapping my fingertips together and thinking,
"Oh....So there's a chance it could be over soon?"

I know I've got annoying habits, too.
He often asks if I need him to build a retaining wall to keep all my clothes I have piled on my dresser from avelanching off onto the floor.
But piles of clothes don't keep you up at night.
Piles of clothes don't lead to bad moods the next day and bug eyed children gawking at "scary mommy" who's got THAT LOOK again.

It's really not my dream to glance over at my 34 year old husband and see him wearing a C-Pap machine.
Looking like some sort of Robotic Elephant of Sleep.
But, you do what you have to the keep your wife from ending your alive.

He's otherwise mostly healthy.
If you forget about things like the bad ju-ju of being Native American while eating a Costco sized box of cinnamon rolls, that is.

This just has to stop.

I'm getting mean.

A person is not designed to take care of four kids who are all perpetually on the verge of nervous break-downs on only 3 hours of sleep a night.
It's not good when you start recalling old Dexter episodes as you lay in the dark.

It's not good that when he kisses me goodbye in the mornings as he heads off to work, I'm tempted to bite his lips because I'm mad at his loud snorey mouth.

I just heard a motorcycle drive by while I typed this and I jumped, then thought,
"Oh great. Now I have PTSD from it."
I wonder if I'd qualify for a therapy dog.......

I've thought about Breathe Right Strips, but I just don't see how those would work. The sound isn't coming from his NOSE, it's coming from the deep recesses of his being.
Like instead of a skeleton, his insides are formed around a leaf blower.

Now I must go.
I need a nap today.
It's the only way I can function and have the energy to set up his tent later.

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