Anyway, as I was lying on my back, trying to make my mind calm down, Alex turns over, picks up a pillow in both hands and puts it down very deliberately on my face. He even held it there for a moment.
Umm. Was that a smother attempt? Doesn't that only happen on TV?
He didn't even roll over.
"You just tried to kill me."
(I was not being dramatic at all, and my assumption that this was a murder plot had nothing to do with me reading that book filled with approximately 10 dead people by page 65.)
Really, that was his reaction. Attempted murder and all he has is, "hmpf."
When I confronted him this morning about his "attack," he laughed. He assumed I was just being funny. (In his defense, I am usually hysterical all the time and super fun to be married to, so what is he to think? At least, that's how I'm justifying his callous attitude about trying to kill me.)
It wasn't like he just threw the pillow and it landed on my face. He picked it up and placed it on my face like he had a plan that he quickly aborted, probably realizing he would just have to raise all three kids alone and there isn't that much money on me in our life insurance policy. I'm not that annoying, I do iron his shirts.
Actually, I am pretty sure he was asleep during the incident. It was more like a subconscious attempt to take my life, probably stemming from the fact that he had seen three huge boxes by our front door and I hadn't had the chance to explain to him that they were actually maternity clothes being returned from my sister-in-law, not purchases I made online. Nothing angers Alex like frivilous shopping.
(Note: all shopping is frivilous unless it includes stereo equipment, something advancing our children's skills at a sport, or lingerie. Lingerie is always on the free to purchase list. Unfortunately, my attempt to pass off things like adorable tanks as sexy sleep shirts or jeans as something a stripper would wear, have failed miserably.)
So, Alex has disturbed sleep. I think the proper, medical diagnosis is crazy sleeper. (See, I'm capable of creating medical terminology. You can too!) Alex talks in his sleep. He jerks his arms and legs. He jumps up and yells, convinced there are snakes or spiders or mice in the bed. It's good times.
In our first apartment we had a large oval mirror over the head of our bed. (Not over our bed, that's way more interesting than we are. It hung on the wall at the head of our bed.) One morning I woke up and Alex was staring at me. He whispered, "I did something strange last night."
That statement alone scared the crap out of me...and why was he whispering? I can only assume he was trying to add to the creepy factor. We hadn't been married that long, anything was possible. My mind immediately raced through all the Oprah's I had watched about double lives and freaky things people found out about their husbands after marriage. I didn't think he was gay, already married or actually a woman so I had no clue what was going on here.
(Sidenote: I kissed Alex when he came home from work one day a few months after our wedding. I pulled back and said, "You smell like smoke." To which he replied, "Yeah, I smoke at work." Good to know. Good to know HUSBAND! I have got to start paying closer attention to things.)
Anyway, he pointed to the large mirror which was now sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. I looked up where the mirror had been and there was only a large black mark where it looked like something had scraped down the wall. I got up and looked at the mirror and the hanging wire on the back of the mirror was broken.
He quickly explained that in the middle of the night he woke up and was holding the mirror by the bottom edge, the mirror standing upright in his hands. The mirror was probably 4'x2' and really heavy. He was still under the covers when he woke up and he had no memory of how it got into his hands.
I believe that was actually the first attempt on my life.
He's had a ton of other instances during sleep. I've stayed awake after he goes to bed and have heard him saying, "shhhh" to no one and moving around the room. He's ripped off our covers, convinced we are being attacked and actually swung at the air. If it didn't scare me to death it would hilarious.
He has some really interesting conversations, usually about work, but not things he would really say at work....though I'm just guessing he usually doesn't curse about donuts to people at work, but I could be wrong. Apparently he was smoking at work for over a year and I had no idea. I'm clearly not in the know for the work life. Maybe donuts are actually a large part of his work life?
So, I'm really writing this more as evidence if I suddenly die of "natural causes" during the night or anything like that. I'm also writing this so Alex knows that if I am smothered in my sleep I fully intend to come back and haunt him with all sorts of ridiculous charges on his credit card.
I'm pretty sure I'm safe, but I did buy a really pretty dress today and Alex had a rough day at work...not a recipe for sleeping success tonight.
Remember how great it was that we had separate beds on our getaway? It probably saved my life.