Never Poke a Sleeping Bear

You know the phrase, "So-and-so is a mean drunk," right?

Well, have you ever heard the phrase, "The Husband So-and-so is a mean sleep?"

Someone I know is a mean sleep. This someone is kind, attentive, thoughtful, and loving.

As long as he is awake.

But when he is deep in the throws of REM, there is a whole other side of his personality that comes out. The first time it happened was near the end of my first pregnancy. It was smack dab in the middle of a bitter Minnesota winter. I was sicker than a dog, and unable to take any medication (due to the pregnancy, and our desire to not have our child born with a third nipple or horns on his head. Because that's what they tell you will happen if you take anything resembling medication while pregnant, you know).

So, one night at about three in the morning, I started coughing.

And coughing.

And coughing. (I don't deny it was annoying.) But this certain someone sits up, shoves me to the very edge of our bed and yells, "KNOCK IT OFF!"

I, of course, immediately curled up in the fetal position and spent the next several hours crying, imagining my impending divorce, and wondering how I would raise my newborn baby all by myself.

And when the sun came up? Mr. I-Have-Rage-When-I-Sleep had no memory of his bad behavior. He was oblivious to the hurt feelings and wounded heart that I had nursed all night. He simply didn't remember. And he felt horrible when he found out.

Over the years, I've been unable to break him of this annoyingly bad habit. Most times, it's merely mumbling and cursing under his breath if something wakes him up unexpectedly. But the latest installment happened a few nights ago. The Husband had fallen asleep in the basement while watching TV. I gently shook his shoulder and asked him (in my sweetest voice, mind you) if he wouldn't like to come upstairs and sleep in his own bed.

He looks at me in a daze, starts grumbling, and says, "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?"


If I were new to the whole angry sleep thing, I might have been offended. And sad. And ready to call Sleeping Rage-A-Holics Anonymous. But you know what I did? I smiled, laughed, and left him to sleep - alone on the couch, all night.

Because that crook he'll feel in his neck the next morning?

Totally serves him right.