When it comes to sleeping, I am a “this is my side, that is your side” type of girl.
I guess this is another failure on my part to all woman-kind.
I don’t like to cuddle, I honestly don’t even like to be touched (unless i’ve just awoken from a nightmare; then i’ll stick to you like spandex on a FUPA). Don’t move, don’t twitch; and if you breathe out of your mouth i’ll punch your face in in a drowsy haze.
This is not all me just being a horrid sleep nazi- I am just a ridiculously light sleeper. Everything wakes me up, and it takes me forever to get back to sleep once that’s happened; so the sleep I do get is precious to me.
I’m sure Thomas hasn’t appreciated all the chest punches and hard shoves he’s received in the middle of the night- but he is constantly perpetrating a double offense: mouth breathing snores. I at least beat the twitching out of him over the years; who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?
After nearly 5 years of sleeping in the same bed with the same mouth breathing snore-twitcher, you tend to grow used to at least most of it. Tolerance goes up or something to that effect- but even over time there is one thing I CANNOT get used to sleeping next to, and it has to change before I go totally fucking insane from sleep deprivation: Parker.
Somehow, every single night, he manages to find his way into our bed. Every. Single. Night. And always without detection. It’s like he waits until he knows we are in our deepest stages of the REM cycle and then crawls into our bed and takes over… and then wages war. Not only does he come to our bed every night, but I am woken up but the flurry of elbows and heels being dropped on my chest and face every night now too; and I thought I was a restless sleeper. Christ!
Last night he beat me so hard it actually invaded my dreams. I can’t remember all the details, but I know I was getting my ass kicked, only to spring awake and watch a foot get dropped onto my clavicle.
A swift, sharp, tiny little heel kick to the tit is easily one of the worst pains you could ever experience outside of childbirth.
I’m lucky the kid isn’t armed with a weapon, i’d be history.
I’m at a loss of what to do! The kid’s even gotten sneaky enough to hide in our bed after he’s invaded his way in by sleeping down by our feet and shoving Thomas into MY side, nearly pushing me off the edge. The only way I find out he’s there is by seeing the limbs flailing and hearing the loud pop of thumb-sucking. By the time I catch him down there, or become awake enough to realize who is trying to kill me in my sleep, it’s too late (or early by AM standards) to do anything about it without causing such an uproar that the entire house would wake up.
One kid sleep fighting me is enough, I don’t need 3 wide awake and bitching males at 2 in the morning. And if you think little boys can whine, well, any wife knows a husband can whine MUCH louder.
It might be time to pull out the duct tape. Let’s see you ninja your way out of that!
Are you, though?? 😂😂 pic.twitter.com/Rm5L9PBuiL
When I file for divorce and people ask why I'm gonna say "I told him I felt bloated & wanted donuts and he replied 'that's not gonna help'"
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@selfmademummy I'd explode if I tried