Irreconcilable Sleep Differences

If I end up divorced, this is why.

I love my husband. Really. We get on each other's nerves, argue about stupid things, but generally - we get along very well and have a happy life.

However -

I'm starting to think Ozzie and Harriet had it right with that whole separate bed thing. For us, we need separate rooms. In separate wings of the house. Soundproofed.

My husband snores. Not just annoying little snores that sometimes interrupt an otherwise peaceful sleep - we're talking full-blown, suck the paint of the ceiling and wake the neighbors kind of snoring. I tried giving him the Breathe-Right nasal strips. The worked for a little while - until he decided they were uncomfortable and stopped wearing them. Grr...

I've spent the last few years perfecting a system of snore stoppers ranging from the subtle roll-over-abruptly-and-disrupt-the-mattress move to the patented application-of-direct-pressure-to-his-back-with-my-elbow move. Last year, I added a set of ear plugs to the repertoire, which helped quite a bit for some time. Alas, my husband's ever-evolving snore has once again reigned supreme. No ear plugs on the market can put a damper on the volume he currently achieves. Even if they did, the sheer vibration is enough bounce me the hell out of there.

We are normally awake pretty late. Our average bedtime is probably 1:00 AM, which is when we went to bed last night. He can fall asleep mid-sentence and the snoring begins almost immediately. I find myself in a game of Beat the Clock almost every night. Typically, if I can put in my ear plugs and fall asleep first, my sleep isn't as disturbed. Unfortunately, that rarely happens and I'm left there doing the Dance of the Non-Snoring Spouse in an attempt to quiet him long enough for me to fall asleep.

As I watched the time tick by until well after 3:00 AM, I vowed that I wasn't going to let this continue to eat away at my sanity any longer. After all, I have to wake up and be Mom to our 2 boys who are already wise enough to steer clear of me on *good* mornings. There is no *good* morning after a night like last night. Is it unfair of me to insist that my husband DO SOMETHING to correct this problem? I've done just about all I can to adjust my sleeping. Perhaps removing my ear drums completely is an appropriate next move? That could really come in handy for those days when both boys attempt to shatter glass with mind-numbing tantrums...

So - this morning, I inform my husband that the time has come for him to actually do something about this problem. I told him that this is a whole lot more serious than he's been taking it and that I just can't do it anymore. His response? (And this is a direct quote!) "Sorry."

Sorry? Are you kidding me? I don't want to hear, "Sorry," and watch you continue with your day as if my sleep deprivation is no big deal! I am becoming a full-blown whack-job before your very eyes and all you can say is, "Sorry?" I don't think so!

I immediately started my Google research and came up with the name of an excellent ENT doctor in our area. I forwarded the info to my husband and told him to call and take the next available appointment. Know what? He told me he saw a doctor a few years ago who told him that he required surgery to correct his problems. Apparently, dear husband is avoiding the pain and recovery involved in such a procedure. (Insert Sleep-Deprived, Whack-Job Rage here)

I calmly (I'm so proud that I remained calm!) said that perhaps this new doctor knows of some non-surgical alternatives. Know what?!?! My husband says, "Oh, yeah. There are other alternatives."

...

Resisting the overwhelming desire to punch him square in the stomach, I said, "You need to call him. I can't do this anymore. There could be a symptom of a more serious problem. Besides, this is probably why you're so tired all the time."

He said, "I'll just sleep on the couch tonight."

I need to go throw things now.

Spreading the Insanity

It's good to share, you know!

As my children are either trying to make me age before my time or push me waaaaay over the edge, I've decided I must fight fire with fire. The following is my to-do list of how I plan to drive my children insane over the next few weeks. This is my "starter list." Any other suggestions?

1 - Enlist the aid of parental controls to block out even more of their programs. (I never get tired of that one!)

2 - GameBoy? What GameBoy?

3 - "I'm sorry, sweetie. They stopped making batteries in that size."

4 - Fresh produce + electric juicer + popsicles molds = dessert with veggies

5 - Reinstating the dreaded Chore List

Something's Afoot...

...or I'm (still) just crazy.

It's been 3 months since I've been on meds for depression and I'm really starting to re-evaluate this whole diagnosis. Over the weekend, it occurred to me that while I'm not dancing-on-the-mountaintop happy, I'm actually pretty content and ... well, happy. This epiphany came as a quite a shock while I was checking multiple items off of my ever-growing household to-do list that was started months ago and never got smaller. I woke up early (for me) on Sunday morning and just started doing the things that had been looming for quite some time. It was weird - tasks that seemed insurmountable were suddenly something I knew I could tackle if I just did it. This may not seem like a big deal to most of you - but for those of us who have been struggling to find the motivation to get the heck out of bed in the morning, it's a really big deal.

It was my first truly good day in a looooong time. Now, that's not saying my boys were angels or that there weren't some frustrations. But - for the first time in months, I was able to roll with the punches, shrug off the small things and just go through the day. Not losing my patience for an entire day is a Really Big Deal. There were timeouts and conflicts, but I felt like I was in control for each and every one.

Of course, for me - I can't just leave well enough alone. I have to look for that indication that something is not quite right. I'm second-guessing my diagnosis, my meds and pretty much everything else related to my state of mind. Am I really depressed or I am just lazy? Is it Seasonal Affective Disorder? My moods seem to be related to the changing seasons - or am I just reading too much into things? Am I really just a bitch who needs to grow up and get over it?

The decision to take meds was not an easy one for me. When my father died in December, it was the straw that broke the camel's back. I tried lots of different things before I agreed to "just try" the medication for 6 months. Is it really changing how my brain functions - or is it just masking my symptoms? I hate that I am on meds and I hate that it seems to have helped. Very few people are aware of the fact that I'm taking meds - or that I'm even "having a rough time" for that matter. I certainly can't clue them in to the fact that I'm not perfect! Heaven forbid!

I guess I'll just keep things as they are for now. I'm curious how many truly good days I can string together. I don't expect to have a life full of only sunshine and happiness - I just don't want to feel like I have no control over my life.

Yardwork Disease

This post will simply serve to jog my memory when I try to tally up all of hubbie's mystery illnesses brought on by the mere suggestion of doing yardwork. A month ago - it was his severe allergies and lack of face masks that delayed the lawn mowing. Two weeks ago - still don't have the masks and just too busy. Today? Backache. In his defense, he managed to do the front yard and about 1/16th of the backyard before quitting. But - he had been promising to do it since we returned on Monday evening and just didn't do it. Last night, after I brought it up (which will *always* be known as nagging, despite how much he avoids doing it or how infrequently/frequently I mention it), he promised to do it on his lunch break. I reminded him this morning - don't forget the grass. At noon, I asked if he was going to get to it and he said, "Yes," and walked away. 2 1/2 hours later, he grudgingly went out to get it done, only to stop halfway through because of his "backache."

He has exactly *2* chores that are his - trash and the lawn. In the winter, there's shovelling snow, but I don't mind helping out with that. Yes, he works more than full time to provide for his family so I have the *luxury* of staying home, blah, blah, blah. Give me a break! It's not like we have a big yard or steep hills - it's basically level. If he did all of his chores at once, it would take him all of about an hour to finish everything. He argues that it takes longer because he has to stop and empty the mower's bag every now and then - I argue that if he just did it every week, there would be less accumulation and less emptying.

The fact of the matter is - it probably wouldn't bug me so much if we didn't live in a development with neighbors who are *constantly* telling us what to do with our yard. I can smile and nod pretty well for the ridiculous stuff - like telling us we should cut down our trees! But really - when they start offering to lend us yard equipment or give us the numbers of lawn care services, I really want to just smack dear old hubbie and say, "Will you just cut the freaking grass so I don't have to listen to these people?!?!?"

Heh - yep. Still in that *crappy* mood. Can't wait to tell him it's trash night, too.

When Toddlers Attack...

...it's a great reason to stay in bed.

Both of my children know that I am *not* a morning person (which is the understatement of the year!) I need to wake up slowly and calmly and at least start my first cup of coffee before I have to really deal with anything. If that doesn't happen, I'm in a crappy mood the rest of the day.

We have this potty training thing covered except for one detail. My little guy is convinced that he cannot get himself up on the potty by himself. No step-stools, encouragement or pleading seems to get through to him. I suppose he'll outgrow this before college, but ... I wish he'd just sit on the damn potty already!

This morning, while I was still asleep, he apparently needed to go, but didn't dare wake mommy. Daddy had already departed for his long commute to the basement office, so he was left to his own devices. When I woke, I saw my little guy in his nightshirt - no pull-up, no underwear, standing in the hallway between my room and the bathroom. I said, "Good morning," and proceeded to walk into the bathroom. The second my foot touched the tile, I slipped in a puddle of some slimy-watery substance and had to grab the counter to keep myself from knocking myself silly. I immediately looked at my little angel who informed me that it was "bubble water" from the little bucket we use to rinse shampoo from little heads. Apparently, this was missed in the cleanup mission from the other night. Luckily, he took it upon himself to empty it for us - all over the floor.

So, I look around to survey the damage and find a poop-filled pull-up between the toilet and the wall, along with trail-o-poop markings spread throughout the room. That's also when I noticed that he had poop spackled on different body parts as well. From what I gather, the little guy couldn't wait for help getting on the potty and opted to just fill the pull-up, take it off and clean up the mess himself. (Hey, why waste a good bucket of "bubble water"?) He was very proud of himself - he managed to wash most of the poop away - to the corners of the room, behind doors, etc. Basically, he spared me from stepping in the stuff, but spread the mess throughout the bathroom.

That, dear husband, explains today's *crappy* mood. And you dare to say, "Good Morning!" to me and leave dishes in the sink? Today is not the day, my friend. My morning has been compromised. Lay low and keep the coffee flowing.

Bubbles, Bubbles Everywhere

Is it too much to ask that the damned SpiderMan bubble bath be tear-free?

In a weak moment, I actually gave in to the pleading of my little guy when he started begging for the SM bubble bath at Target. Ordinarily, we use the tear-free head to toe stuff (ok, the *generic* kind), but I said, "What the heck. Let's walk on the wild side."

The boys now beg for bubbles with every. single. bath. Apparently, the tear-free stuff is no longer acceptable when we can have berry-scented, cartoon-themed crap. Problem is, it always ends up with both boys screaming about their eyes burning but refusing to exit the tub without being forcibly removed. Tonight, the little guy managed to pour most of the bottle into the tub while my back was turned. As you can probably imagine, the bubbles took the place over pretty quickly. You'd think they'd stop there. No such luck. My husband taught them that if they turn the jets on, the bubbles would take on a life of their own. Fun when there are a small amount of bubbles - scary when you can no longer see over them. So, with the shower doors closed, the bubbles climbed to new heights. The 6 year old thought this was fascinating - but his little brother was standing with bubbles up to his chin and growing more and more anxious about his fate.

Now, better parents would have been supervising this whole situation, but alas - we were not. See, the boys have been pretty much doing the solo bath thing for several months now without much of a problem other than the occasional flood on the bathroom floor. (The little guy likes the sound the water makes when it hits the tile floor with force.) Also - they almost always take their baths together so they can play with the boats and other assorted hunks of plastic that make bathtime so much fun. So, my husband and I will wash them and spend a few minutes, but the boys like to do their own thing for a few minutes, too. Plus, it's not like we go very far - my home office shares the wall with the bathtub and it takes all of 5 steps (yes, I just counted) to get from my desk to the bathroom doorway. Generally, when the squeals of delight turn to shrieks of anger or terror, we know parental intervention is necessary. Usually, the little guy ends up angry because he's not getting his way - the signal adopted by our family that informs us when bathtime is officially over. This time - both boys ended up screaming and calling for us.

I like to think that I have the ability to act quickly in harmful situations. But - I have to admit - the vision of my boys rubbing the suds out of their eyes, crying and virtually obscured by the room full of bubbles made me stop for a minute to soak it all in. I don't think I can effectively communicate how many bubbles we're talking about here. Let's just say it was impressive - my husband and I had an equally amusing time trying to get the bubbles to go away once the kids were rescued.

I wonder if they'll be asking for bubbles tonight...

Home Sweet Home

The boys and I went on an impromptu "vacation" while my husband was away at a conference. Actually, we all drove the majority of the way together, rented hubby a car, and sent him on his way. I was actually solo-parenting in unfamiliar territory for a 4 day stretch and managed to do it without bloodshed, Wawa coffee or Xanax. Woo-hoo! I cannot be held responsible for the grammatical errors that are likely numerous in my hasty attempt to get some "stuff" out of my head so I can sleep tonight.

My husband re-joined us for the last 2 days and loooooong drive home. All in all, it was actually a pretty good trip for us. I must give much thanks to the angels at the Nintendo corporation. The GameBoy is without a doubt, the single-most influential item in our possession. It has the power to make my 6 year old smile, cry and lose his mind all at once. It is a powerful tool of negotiation with the backseat terrorists who generally make long car rides unbearable. (Ever wonder what it would feel like to open the door and jump from a moving car? GameBoy made me stop wondering.) Really, I think we underestimate the ability of GameBoy to bring people together. Want your kids to stop asking, "Are we there yet?" Get them a GameBoy and keep new games tucked away for those trips where you anticipate you may be fantasizing about driving off the road...

I must say, going on a long car ride with me is truly an adventure. I don't know that I can say that I truly suffer from "Road Rage." It's more like Road Incredulity. You people - and you know who you are - that are content to drive 15 miles below the speed limit until someone appears to be trying to pass you -- I hate you! If you were the idiot on I-81 near Syracuse today - I have a finger or two I'd like you to see. (I would have shown you on the road, but my boys already know too many obnoxious words and gestures.) Asshole! Then, I get to see some other moron pull off the shoulder in front of us while we were doing 65-70 mph, maintaining a speed of about 45 mph in front of us while we couldn't get around them, waiting for us to pass them so they can SPEED UP, PASS US and SLOW DOWN!!! WTF?!?!? Are you people insane, stupid or just plain rude? Really. Get a clue, take a driving lesson or get the heck out of the way!

I also seemed to amuse my husband with my idea of an Intersection Guillotine. It's a simple concept really - inspired by the ignorant idiots who continue to think only of themselves, blocking intersections, creating gridlock and refusing to take any responsibilty for contributing to the problem. I think that at tricky intersections, the threat of a guillotine slamming down into your car may deter some drivers from blocking the freaking intersection. Any Philly area people? Ever try to pull out of the Wawa near the bridge in Conshohocken and make a left? Ah, the birthplace of my idea! Don't let the stoplight fool you - you're screwed if there's traffic. Don't think someone will be nice and let you in - they're too busy pretending not to notice that you've been sitting through 3 light cycles because some over-entitled RUDE people blocked the intersection!!! Where's the damned guillotine?!?!?

Other than the typical driving annoyances, a really bad motel the first 2 nights and some you-don't-wanna-know poop stories, it was a pretty good trip.

Sweet Mother of God

WTF was I thinking?

Moms, when you see the box of toy instruments on the shelf at Target and think, "Oh how wonderful! The children can experiment with music!" or "I'll bet the boys would *love* to pretend they are in a band!" I urge you -- run!

Military and police interrogators should really consider employing bands of preschoolers armed with kazoos and harmonicas.