If You Need Me, I'll Be Sleeping

There are two types of people in this world: those who can function without a lot of sleep, and those who cannot. I am unabashedly in the latter category. Ryan and I know each other's triggers pretty precisely these days - if he is cranky, it's because he is hungry. If I'm cranky, it's because I am tired.

I have ALWAYS loved my sleep. When I was a teenager, I made it very clear to my very best friend Ashley that if she EVER called me or showed up to my house before 10am, we would no longer be friends. And 10am was me being generous, because I loved her. I'd really prefer not to be woken until noon. And I went to bed early! If I made it to 11pm on any given night, it was a big deal. Word on the street is that even as a newborn, I didn't want to wake up even to eat...I've literally always loved my sleep.

So it's quite unfortunate (for me and those who must deal with me) that I am on day #10 of getting little to no sleep every night. Ryan calls me an 'anxious' sleeper, and says that at times I roll over every 10 - 15 seconds trying to get comfortable. Recently, during one of these gymnastic routines, he laid his arm over me and I settled down for a little while. The next morning, I said 'that was so sweet when you tried to comfort me last night', to which my sometimes too honest husband replied, 'actually I was trying to pin you down so I could get some sleep.'

I say all of this to set up a case for my defense: Lack of sleep turns me into a completely different person and I cannot be held responsible for what I say or do while tired, including, but not limited to:

1.)While in a sleep deprived state, I recently spent several minutes trying to start my car before finally summoning Ryan to the garage to help. He got in, took one look, and asked me where my keys were. They were in my hand. I forgot to put them in the ignition.

2.)Once actually asleep, I was having a terrible nightmare about a murderer who had killed all of my co-workers and knew I was still alive in the building. I was hiding under a desk and could hear the bad man's footsteps getting closer. I was holding my breath trying not to make noise, and apparently I was holding my breath in real life, too. Ryan reached his hand to my chest to make sure I was still breathing, and I, still thinking he was a murderer, sprang up and started trying to beat him up.

3.)My alarm went off for work and I immediately started weeping. The ugly cry. Ryan held me for a good 5 minutes, gently pulled away to assess how badly I was still in need of comfort, and I started sobbing harder. He kept asking me what was wrong and all I could say was, 'It's not time yet! I'm so tired! It's not time yet!'

4.)At the Starbucks window, I tried to pay for my coffee with my Kohl's department store card. When that didn't work, I handed him my driver's license. Neither of those things buy coffee, apparently.

5.)My boss proactively handed me tissues, told me to clear my calendar, and offered her house up as a place to take a nap.

And like any good wife would, I can't let this post come to an end without also throwing my husband under the bus (while being fully aware that his sleep deprivation is 100% inflicted by yours truly):

In the midst of a rare but peaceful slumber, I woke to Ryan's face thisclose to mine while he was tugging at the pillow under my head. Teeth clenched and eyes glazed over in that universal 'sleep walking/talking' look, he growled 'I told you I NEED this!' and ripped the pillow out from underneath me. He then promptly rolled over, and threw my pillow on the floor.

If you see me in the next few days and I don't seem quite like myself, please remember the following: