See this face?
That, my friends, is the face of a monster. RUN FOR YOUR LIIIIIVES!
(Okaynotreally. I love the guy to death, but for the sake of dramatics, indulge me for a minute.)
When I was younger, I had visions of married life pretty much being a never ending slumber party. You know… movie marathons, an abundance of junk food, talking to your BFF for hours on end, braiding each other’s hair, etc.
What, you don’t braid your husbands hair? Okay, not so much, but you get what I’m saying. I was a day-dreamy girl and slumber parties were my favorite thing in the world at the time. Stay with me here.
(Just a side note, there is some pretty… interesting slumber party stuff on the internet. Exhibit A.)
So now that I’ve been married 4 years and have been properly schooled in the art of being a wife and all that comes along with it (HA. Right.), I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Marriage? Yeah, not a the slumber I envisioned. Oh it’s a slumber party alright, but not like the fun ones you remember. There are no late night movie marathons starring Jennifer Garner. There are late night video game marathons starring loud shooty things and husbands that yell obscenities. There is no braiding of hair. There is however, cleaning up of billions of tiny man whiskers all over the bathroom. But most importantly, and I wish I had known this going into it, there is no actual sleeping. Like, ever.
See, Justin has issues with sleep, which now means that I have issues with sleep. On the nights he stays up late, tossing and turning, I also stay up late tossing and turning. When he gets up for a big, loud, gulpy drink of water, I wake up as well. It’s bad, but I never really minded it until this one night when something truly horrific happened…
We had been married less than a year at the time. We were both sleeping soundly until it happened. Justin farted. AND IT WAS VERY, EXTREMELY, NOT GOOD.
It smacked me across the face and woke me up with the force of a thousand demons. Worst smell of my life. I jumped out of bed immediately and said, “JUSTIN! OH MY G–“, cupped my hand over my mouth and bolted for the bathroom. As if that wasn’t bad enough, as I was rounding the end of the bed, Justin groggily mumbled, “hrmmffl. Babe, can you turn off the tv? grbglllftt.” And then he fell right back to sleep while I was throwing up from his foul smells. That is nerve, people.
The thing is, Justin and I have about 20 memorable stories like this, where he’s woken me up in some way or another and fallen back asleep while I’m left to fend for my life. A few nights ago, he literally punched me in the face and said “WHAT’S THAT!?” while pointing at the ceiling. I was all freaked out thinking it was a bug or something and he fell right back to sleep. I was all, ‘What? Justin, what is it!?!?” and he was out. He swears he doesn’t remember any of these things, but I think it’s a conspiracy. He knows. Ohhh, he knows.
Moral of my really sick story: Marriage is a never ending, braidless, sleepless slumber party of doom. And farts. You have been warned.
[ image credit for creepy slumber party dolls