Bedtime Rituals

After Ryan and I have had a good fifteen minutes of snuggling (rather, I’ve wrapped my arms and legs around his body, and he lies there—very still and very politely—until I have reached my daily cuddle-quota and made a sizable puddle of drool on his pillow), we both roll over to face opposite sides of the bed. We call this “assuming the sleeping position.”

Once the “sleeping position” has been initiated, there is to be no talking and no touching—only sleeping. We take “sleeping position” etiquette extremely seriously in our marriage.

The problem is this: I don’t really want to go to sleep—not at all. I’m tired… real tired… but my time of awakeness without my children also being awake is so scarce and so precious. There are so many things I’d like to be doing rather than sleeping. Writing, for example. Reading books. Eating carne asada. Going hiking. Sneaking celebrity gossip on the Internet. Grooming.

But I am too tired for any of that.

So I find myself thinking. I mentally reword the paragraphs in my book. I furnish and refurnish all of the rooms in my new house. I scheme on ways to get the most out of my coupons for my next grocery trip.

And then I’m all worked up (coupons get me that way). I am too excited to go to sleep. I’m not even tired anymore. Why the heck can’t I fall asleep?

So, I roll out of bed and walk to the medicine cabinet. I punch a Unisom out of the tin-foil packet and pour myself a glass of water. I get back in bed.

I fight agaist falling asleep, but rather worship my zzzz's once I’m there. I groan as, five seconds later, the morning light filters through the window tells me to “look alive.” I am not an early bird. I've never had any interest in "getting the worm."

I rub the mascara-leftovers out of my eyes and walk drowsily into the kitchen. Ryan is there making a peanut butter sandwich to pack for lunch. He looks sexy in his work clothes, but tired.

“Hi babe.” I wrap my arms around him and nuzzle my nose into his neck. “Did you sleep okay?”

He chuckles a little and shakes his head. “I did not,” he admits.

“Why?"

“There was an encroachment,” he says. Okay, so he doesn’t use the exact word “encroachment” because that is a word that I would use, but he says something similar and I know exactly what he means.

Somewhere, between my sleeping pill at twelve and Ryan’s alarm clock at six, I did the unthinkable. I violated a key “sleeping position” rule.

I snuggled with Ryan in my sleep.

I have very bad manners when I am on drugs.