Confessions

People frequently ask me if the hubs ever confesses things in his sleep. Or if I try to ask him questions to find out the truth while he is sleeping. The answer is “no.” To both questions. If the hubs has something to tell me, he does. And if I wanted to know the truth I simply have to ask him while we are both awake.

The munchkin has nothing to confess: he can sleep like a baby.

The munchkin has nothing to confess: he can sleep like a baby.

Isn’t it interesting that so many people think that I should utilize the hubs’ sleep talking to find out his secrets? I suppose we all want to know things about other people, to know their secrets, and to confess our own. One well timed question and anyone will share their secrets. In fact, I have some things to confess right now:

My least favorite chore is mopping. It always has been. Therefore, I do not own a mop. I clean my floors by other means, just never mopping.

I still, in my deepest heart, think that the three kings in “We Three Kings” are from a place called “Orientare.”

I sing Cindy Lauper songs to the munchkin. A lot. His favorite is “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.”

It bothers me a lot when people say “alot.” It is two words. If you type it as one word, I judge you a lot.

I always said that I would never talk to my child in “baby talk,” because I thought that it would stunt their verbal skills. I talk to the munchkin in baby talk all day long. I talk so much like a baby that I now talk to the dog like a baby. The other day I answered the phone with baby talk. It’s getting a little out of control.

When I walk the dog in the evening and a dog a street or two over starts barking, I let our dog bark back for awhile. I do this just in case the Twilight Bark is a real thing, and she is helping to save some lost puppies.

I also must confess that I occasionally sleep talk. In fact, according to the hubs, I talked in my sleep this past week. He said I mumbled, “Slerfenskots frozen people…”

And he said, “What, hon?”

“Slerfenskots frozen peopsernf.”

I have no idea what I was talking about, but the hubs has confessed that it was quite funny to have the sleep-talking tables turned.

A Casualty for the Cause

Noses are very important. A nose knows, you know. And a nose by any other name would still be as sniffly. Or something like that.

An extreme closeup of one of my favorite noses.

When a nose gets bumped or hit, it can be very painful. It can bleed, or bruise, or sometimes even break right off! And then that person doesn’t have a nose, and they can never snort again. At least, I think that’s what happens.

A few weeks ago we had an interesting run-in with noses while the hubs and I were asleep. I was sleeping soundly when all of the sudden someone grabbed me, one arm around my waist, the other wrapped around my neck. This person yelled, “Gotcha!” and about scared me to death. Since I was asleep, and under attack, I did the rational thing and swung at them as hard as I possibly could with my elbow. It connected with something hard, and the attacker let go of me.

I was now VERY awake, adrenaline pumping, prepared to defend the apartment against intruders. However, I realized that it was the asleep hubs who had attacked me. When I hit him in the face with my elbow, he let go and sat back. He laughed, “Ha! You missed!” then rolled over and kept on sleeping. He never once woke up.

It took me significantly longer to get my heart to stop racing enough that I could go back to sleep.

The next morning the hubs was saying he thought he would have to go to the doctor. When I asked why he explained that his nose was killing him, super painful and swollen, all for no apparent reason. In order to avoid unnecessary medical treatment for the hubs, I told him about the escapade the night before, and how I had been forced to defend myself.

Thankfully with some ice and kisses, the hubs’ nose healed up nicely. Although it was sore for a few days, serving as a reminder of what happens when one cannot control their sleep talking!