You know, it's been years since my mother has felt the need to use my age as an explanation for my odd habits or behaviors until recently- I'm rapidly approaching the menopause years and have begun to exhibit some bizarre activity that she likes to excuse with "she's just getting in that age". That was a phrase I hadn't heard since the snotty teenager years, which of course, are now nothing more than a fond big-haired memory.
My husband does the best he can trying to understand and empathize with the world women live in, especially the woman he lives with, but he's struggling lately due to the simple fact that sharing a bed with me has become a nightmare. It begins with the extra blanket. When I go to bed, I'm cold and need an extra blanket- he does not. He says nothing however because he knows where the extra blanket will lead. Approximately two hours after I fall asleep, the extra blanket turns into some kind of fuzzy oven that is smothering me in my sleep. I wake to wrestle out from under the damn thing, soaked to the bone in my own hormone induced sweat. After I manage to struggle out from under the covers to get some air, he affectionately snuggles up next to me and puts his arm around me.
"Get away from me! You're gonna make me sweat to death!" I shriek in the darkness.
He bounces to his own side of our king size bed. This reaction is a far cry from nearly 9 years ago when we slept cuddled up next to each other all night in a full size bed and nobody complained. He now understands why it's menopause. It causes men to stop and pause pretty much before doing anything in the presence of their wives in the event that she's having a "moment". That's code for violent and hostile mood swings where even the cat somehow manages to be the most annoying creature on the planet simply because I can hear him breathing. Convinced that the animal is going out of his way to breathe as loudly as possible, I shove him off the bed muttering profanity while trying to find a non-sweaty spot on my pillow. Back to sleep it is- for maybe an hour or two...
Anywhere between 3:30 and 4:30am, I'm up for the day. This time, I'm cold and looking for that extra blanket in the dark. So not to disturb the sleeping husband, I rummage through the drawer for my iPad since I'm not sleeping anyway and nobody thinks it's funny when I vacuum at 4am.
Suddenly, from the other side of the king size bed, I hear "What's that light?."
My hormone induced and sleep deprived self responds with "It's the Bat Signal..."
Silence from the other side of the king size bed. I know he's contemplating whether or not it will be worth it to toss out a witty comeback in the middle of the night, or maybe because it's the middle of the night, he can't think of one. So, I say "Is it bothering you?"
Here's the part where he's really struggling. If he says no, he's lying. Nobody wakes up in the middle of the night to inquire about the very issue that woke them in the first place if it's only to satisfy their curiousity. But, if he says yes, well, that's when the menopause flares up. There's about a 50/50 chance that his loving, beautiful wife will turn into the troll who lives under the bridge if he says he's bothered by the glow of the iPad.
Deep sigh, rolls over. I continue with my quest to complete 25 crossword puzzles before the alarm goes off. The alarm is my signal to go back to sleep for a few hours so the day isn't a total loss. I nod off just as my husband is getting up for work...and then a click in the hallway followed by a blinding beam of light.
From the bedroom I holler into the hallway, "What the hell are you doing? I'm trying to sleep...turn off that light."
Deep sigh once again and "Sorry Hon, go back to sleep".
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