Sleep Talking Squabbles

The other night I had a very scary dream, and jolted awake – whimpering and heart thumping. I scooted closer to the hubs, and he drowsily turned over.

Hubs: You’re ok.

Now, I’m not sure why I reacted to this statement the way I did. Perhaps I was still scared from the dream, or perhaps I felt like he just wasn’t being empathetic enough, or maybe I’m just argumentative at 2 am. Regardless, I was not happy with this lackadaisical comforting from the hubs.

Me: You don’t know that! What if I’m not?

Hubs: What?

Me: What if I’m not ok? Maybe I’m not. You can’t know for sure. It’s just…rude!

Hubs: Hmm, yeah, maybe. It’s fine, though.

Me: That’s what you think!

Then I rolled back over and went back to sleep. (I’m really not a horrible person, I just felt very strongly at that moment. If I had been fully awake I hope I wouldn’t have reacted quite that way.)

The next morning as the hubs was getting ready for work I mentioned to him that I hated having scary dreams, like I had the night before.

Hubs: Yeah, well, you’re ok.

Me: Are you kidding me?!? That line didn’t work last night, and it isn’t going to work this morning either!

Hubs: What are you talking about?

Me: Last night. You know, you were not very comforting when I had that bad dream, and told me it was ok, so I told you it wasn’t ok, and to stop saying that! And you just did it again!

Hubs: Sweety, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t remember waking up or you having a dream, or anything. Maybe you were sleep talking.

Me: Maybe I was sleep talking?? No, no – maybe YOU were sleep talking!

Hubs: Yeah, probably.

Then he turned back to finish brushing his teeth, unperturbed that asleep-him had gotten me so riled up. And, much as I hate to admit it sometimes, that is one of the great things about the hubs: I know that he really will make it ok. Even though it’s a pain when he says so.

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There is Only One Right Answer

Sometimes when the hubs and I are conversing, questions come up. Very serious questions, like, “Do you like buttermilk ranch dressing, or just plain ranch dressing?”

Or, “Do you think if we pretended to be narcoleptic around the munchkin for the next few years we could convince him that we just fall asleep randomly? And how could we use this to our advantage?”

Most of the time when I ask the hubs a question there is not just one right answer and I really care about the hubs’ opinion. Like, “Do you think the dog would like it if I got her a sunhat?” Or, “Do you see anything wrong with having cookies for breakfast if they have a fruit or vegetable like pumpkin in them?”

But some questions that I pose to the hubs have only one right answer. Like, “Is that really what you’re wearing to the party?” Or, “Do you want to pick up pizza for dinner?”

In fact, just last night I posed a question to the sleep-talking hubs that definitely only had one right answer. I don’t think I had been asleep for very long, when I woke up to the hubs talking.

Hubs: You can say “hi,” if you want to.

Me: Hmm? What’s up, buddy?

Hubs: You can.

Me: Oh? Well, hi!

Hubs: Hi, sweetie!

Me (wondering who he’s calling “sweetie” in his sleep): Now, who are you talking to?

Hubs: My beautiful wife, of course.

Me: That’s right.

Then we both went back to sleeping quietly, and the asleep hubs did not talk again for the rest of the night. He definitely had the right answer that time!

Packaging Problems

Packaging is very important in our house – both literally and figuratively. Literally, the hubs works for a packaging company. He loves his job, and I am very grateful for it, but it does make it difficult to go shopping with him. As we walk through the grocery store he gets distracted by mascara and air compressors and dry erase markers, examining their packages.

There is another not-quite-so-literal way that packaging is important in our home: how I package my morning coffee. In the morning as the munchkin and I get going, I have a nice hot drink in a mug. It’s either coffee, or tea, or chai, but whatever it is the munchkin can’t have any of it. He has learned this, and it only took two years of asking for some almost every day. He now associates mugs with something that he is not allowed to touch or taste. I definitely use this to my advantage. If I want some juice all to myself and don’t want to share, or maybe want to sneak a special little piece of chocolate on a long day, I just have to put it in a mug. As long as whatever I want to keep the munchkin away from is “packaged” in a mug, it is safe. It is magic!

Yay!

He’s so sweet that I am normally happy to share with him, but sometimes I just want to drink my own cup of orange juice. Crazy, huh?

This past week the hubs’ own packaging (aka, his clothes) was the subject of his sleep talking. I was completely asleep when all of the sudden I was jolted awake by somebody moving in the bedroom. I sat up, and saw that the hubs was standing next to the bed, taking off his hoodie.

Me (looking at the clock and seeing it was almost 2:30 am): What on earth are you doing?

Hubs (continuing to shed clothing): Getting comfortable.

Me: Really?

Hubs: HEY! Don’t be grumpy!

Me: Yeah, I’m not being grum…

Hubs (still shedding clothing, and interrupting me): Oh, don’t be grumpy! No grumpy!

Me: Fine, no grumpy. I’m going back to sleep.

Hubs (climbing back in bed with significantly less clothing on than when he originally went to bed): Yep, yep, no grumpy.

In the morning he had no idea what he had done in the night. Apparently sleeping hubs decided his original nighttime packaging was just too constrictive. Thankfully the hubs is a master at fixing any packaging problem, he can do it even in his sleep!

X Marks the Spot

You know how sometimes you can feel when someone’s staring at you? This happened to me during this week. I was sleeping, minding my own dreams, when I woke up to the feeling that someone was staring at me. I rolled over to see my hubs sitting up in bed staring at me intently.

Me: Are you ok?

Hubs: Yes. Are YOU ok?

Me: Yes. What’s going on?

Hubs: I just don’t think we’re in the right spot.

Me: What?

Hubs: The spot. It’s just not… quite… the spot… It’s not… spot’s not right.

Me: Umm, ok…

Hubs (reaches over and pats me reassuringly on the shoulder): There, there. It’s ok.

Then he flopped back down and didn’t say anything else.

I don’t know what he thought was wrong with where he was, but I hope he got to the “right spot” eventually. And I hope that that spot was conveniently marked with a large red “X.”