I may or may not have mentioned in a previous post that my Big Daddy is a snorer.
To say that he’s a snorer is like saying Mt. Everest is a little hill in Nepal. It’s like saying that killer whales can do cannonballs. It’s like saying that Krispy Kreme donuts are good. It’s like saying that National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation is funny. It’s like…oh, nevermind. You get the idea.
Since marrying him, I have also learned that he has entire conversations, some garbled, some understandable, all emotional, in his sleep. This information may have better served me prior to the wedding but was systematically withheld from me, I’m convinced. It’s all part of his master plan.
Sleep Conversation #1 happened shortly after we married, on our first night home from our honeymoon. At the time, we lived in a 900 square foot, 2 bedroom apartment in the San Diego area. We had a queen-sized bed, most of which was taken up by Big Daddy, in a room slightly larger than the bed itself. He sleeps to my left, I sleep on his right.
I had just fallen asleep when I felt him sit up. I’m a mother, right? So I hear everything. Even in my sleep. He was facing away from me, back to me, looking directly at…our closet doors. I could sense his whole body tense up in anger.
Big Daddy happy is big enough.
Big Daddy angry and asleep? Uh, no thanks.
Dog gone those evil closet doors! I thought.
So here I am, trapped in the room with the exit door on the other side of him, and he’s mad, but about what? About that time, he points his finger at the closet door and says, in his most authoritative voice, “I told you to get off my property right now!”
I couldn’t help it. I had to do an eyeroll. His back was to me anyway. He couldn’t even see me.
I said, “What seems to be the problem, hon?” Besides the fact that you have issues with closet doors…I thought.
Again, he points at the (highly offensive and obviously out-of-its-area) closet door and says, “I told you to get off my property right now!”
Risking life and limb, I put his head back on his pillow, and say, “Honey, you don’t have any property. Go back to sleep.”
And he did.
Sleep Conversation #2 happened a few nights later. Big Daddy was on his back. Not a great location for a snorer. Or a snorer’s wife. Nonetheless, that’s where he was. He wakens me and says, “Honey, do you see them?”
What is this nut doing now? I ask myself.
“See what, Big Daddy?” I say.
“Angels,” he says as he swirls his arms in the air. “They’re all around us.”
He’s busy looking at the multitude of heavenly hosts, so I go ahead and take the time to do an eyeroll.
“No, they’re not, you nut. Turn over toward the wicked closet doors and go to sleep,” I say.
And he did.
Praise the Lord Big Daddy takes direction at times like these.