I haven’t been sleeping well lately. Last Thursday, it all came crashing down on me. I made Mr. Camper lunch and then should have cleaned the kitchen. I just couldn’t. I was utterly drained and I needed a nap. I felt really guilty because Mr. C was working, so I should be too, right?
He couldn’t have been more sweet about it. When I told him that I felt guilty taking a nap while he worked (he hadn’t gotten a whole lot of sleep, either), he assured me that it was okay. Not only that, but he escorted me into the bedroom, darkened both of the windows, turned on the AC, and even started the movie I watch when I need a little help falling asleep (the peace and pleasantness of “Brigadoon” never fail to lull me into Slumberville.) After tucking me in, he closed the door behind him and went to work.
What I didn’t know was that while I slept, he came in now and then to check on me to make sure I was doing okay. Do I have a great guy or what?
Le’ts switch gears for a moment. When I was a kid, I used to hate waking my mother. Every time – every single time – it went down like this:
I hope that if I wake her gently enough, she won’t freak me out. So, in a barely audible whisper: mom? No response.
Slightly (ever so slightly) louder: mom. Nothing.
A normal whisper: Mom. Nada.
I take a preparatory breath and add a tiny bit of really quiet voice: Mom? Still nothing.
Okay. I gotta do it. She’s gonna freak me out, but I need her help, so I have to wake her. I know she’s gonna freak me out. Since I know that, it shouldn’t freak me out, right? Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out.
Tentatively, I reach my hand out to touch her bare arm. “Mom.”
She inhales like she hadn’t been breathing the entire time I had been in there – freaking me out. Dammit! Every. Single. Time.
Unfortunately, it’s hereditary. I do the exact same thing. My children decided it was better not to wake me. Instead of coming to me in the middle of the night, they went to each other for nocturnal help. I hated that fact and I tried to get them to come to me, but I completely understood why they didn’t. I mean, my small children (my son wasn’t even in school yet) helped each other through nighttime emergencies instead of coming to me. ‘Cause that didn’t make me feel like a failure as a mother or anything!
Okay. Back to my nap last week. When our room is dark, it’s REALLY dark. You can make out shapes, but that’s about it. I had been asleep for three hours. I don’t usually sleep that long, so Mr. C was worried about me. He brought his phone in and turned the light on. Mind you, he didn’t put the light in my face – it was up on the ceiling or something – just enough so he could see me.
And that’s when I freaked out. You remember when you were a kid in the swimming pool and someone challenged you to see how long you could stay underwater? You stayed under as long as you possibly could. When you finally surfaced, you inhaled very loudly and sharply, right? Well, that’s what I did when Mr. C’s light turned on – I inhaled as if I hadn’t been breathing the entire time I had been asleep. I had never inhaled so loudly or sharply before in my life.
Not only that, but I sat bolt upright in bed while taking in said breath.
lol. As I sit here, I still giggle about it. Poor Mr. C! He was being so sweet to come in and check on me and I freak the crap out of him. Can you imagine – one moment someone is peacefully sleeping in front of you and then for no reason, that person wakes and simultaneously completely freaks out? As any person would have been, he was startled by my actions.
How did he respond? After taking half a second to steady himself, he comes to me to soothe me and calm me down. Seriously – could he be any sweeter?
lol. And yet I sit here, giggling at the fact that I startled him. I actually chuckled on and off for two hours afterwards. I’m such a jerk!
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