Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Midnight Mr. Hyde

I consider myself one very blessed woman.

I married a man who isn't just my husband. I married my best friend, and not to sound too cliche, it just keeps getting *better.

*Never mind the huge blow up we had yesterday about houses, and my storming off and locking myself in the bathroom while Jeremy had to feed some very shell-shocked little people. They all looked like concentration camp prisoners, and while I told myself it was healthy for them to hear mommy and daddy yell at each other discuss things like adults, their eyes told a different story...

I genuinely enjoy his company, and if I had the choice of spending time with anybody throughout the history of ever, from any place, I would still choose Jeremy.

However...

Something happens to me as the night grows older.

After we sweetly kiss goodnight, snuggle for a few minutes, then turn onto our respective sides, a darkness wells up in my soul, and begins leaking out.

It used to manifest itself in the form of me chucking Jeremy's pillow across the room, or me shoving my toes into his socks and forcing them off his feet just to be annoying.

But it has evolved over time, and it ain't pretty.

To be fair, though, I usually only get pushed to this particular brink when I'm really tired, and Jeremy is out cold.

Because when he is out cold he makes noises that are the equivalent of fingernails on a chalkboard (which, oddly enough, has never bothered me. I actually kind of like it.).

And Jeremy is completely immune to my attempts to make him stop, ie. pushing him onto his side, onto his stomach, gently tapping his bum...

It has gotten to the point where my violent kicking doesn't phase him at all. I start seeing red, my nostrils flare and I seriously consider going all One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest on him and smothering him with a pillow.

Of course, it wouldn't be an act of charity, like it was in the movie.

I mean, come on...look at that poor man's face. He's just devastated by his lobotomized friend. Poor ol' brain-dead Jack...

I look more like this:


But more angry. And with less scruff. And more highlights in my hair.

Fortunately, this Midnight Mr. Hyde Syndrome usually dissipates by morning, and then I'm riddled with guilt because poor Jerm is all krunkley from having been physically assaulted all night long. Also fortunate for me is the fact that Jeremy is very forgiving, and usually ends up apologizing for keeping me up (which adds to the guilt I am already harboring).

I've decided that I just need to stay awake long enough that I'm so exhausted that when I do finally decide to go to sleep it happens quickly, and I can ignore the crazies that try to escape.

Of course, that brings on all sorts of other problems, like being dysfunctional during the day, but, again, fortunately for me, my kids are also super forgiving. Must be a dominant Jeremy gene.




1 comment:

Katscratchme said...

I don't attack Ben when we're in bed. He, too, often goes to sleep much faster than me. Must be a man thing.
At my worst, I get depressed and end up waking Ben up with my sniffling.

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