When I woke up this morning, I was not bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. My sight was blurry, and if I had a tail, it would have been limp and pathetic as it swept the floor behind me. I had just gotten up on the wrong side of the bed which just happened to be a fold-out Elmo couch on the floor in the baby's room. Obviously, such a bed is not meant to accommodate anyone larger than a toddler.
When I came out I selflessly asked my children what they wanted for breakfast (though that may be part of my job description as a mother, I guess). My eldest, my boy, treated me to an imitation of myself, the way I looked when he came into his brother's room this morning and found me sprawled on my splendid sleeping space. "This is what you looked like, Mama," he said as he proceeded to throw back his head, sticking his tongue out the side of his mouth with drunken eyes.
"I do not look like that," I responded with dignity as my husband began to snicker.
"Okay," said my boy. "But your mouth was open and you were breathing like this." He began a cacophony of train whistles and rhino snorts, and it was at that moment that I shouted, "Ahhaaaaa!!" and pointed an accusing finger at my husband.
For years Matthew has teased me about snoring. He'll say things like, "When I came in last night you were really out. I could tell by your snoring." Whereupon I ask in a petulant tone, "Do I snore? Do I really?" Then he laughs, pats me on the bottom and assures me that I don't really; he's just teasing. I have never been able to get a straight answer, but the jokes have persisted. And behind every joke, they say, there is a kernel of truth. Thus, I have been haunted for years by the possibility that I have this unlady-like problem.
"You told me I didn't snore!" I shouted at Matthew after my son had finished his tribute performance. "You told me I didn't!"
Matthew did not respond with, "Okay, I'm guilty as charged....because believe me, sister, you do!" No, he was far, far too busy laughing.
"Well maybe I snore because I haven't had a good night's sleep in seven years!" I railed.
But what was the good in defending myself about something over which I have no control? I decided to end the discussion. After all, at long last the truth had come out of the mouth of babes, as it usually does.
"Okay, just stop it, you guys," I said as I walked away. "This is far too much flattery. Really!"