Suffocating My Wife

My wife and I had our first date in early November. We went out a few times and then broke up. A month later we got back together, and by August, we were engaged. We were married in January or 14 months after we first met. Some might say that’s fast others wondered what took so long. Regardless of where you stand, there are some things we did not know about each other till we got married.


I am not a cook. I am a defroster, boiler, microwaver. In other words, I can get something on the table, but the closest I get to homemade is spelling it. My wife on the other hand is a very good cook. She cooked for me before we were married. However, it was different then. It was on an occasional basis, the crush of everyday life was not upon us, and she was still trying to impress me. Now, two kids are whining, the guests will be here in an hour, and she’s working on little sleep – well, she can still whip up a delicious meal. Yes, my wife can cook.
Chalk cooking up as a pleasant surprise.
Unfortunately, I have discovered some unpleasant things as well.
My wife snores. Now, some nights she just breathes loudly and other nights it’s as if she is campaigning to join the Three Stooges. You would think I would be used to it as we are married over 11 years now.  I’m not. Unless, I am totally exhausted, I need quiet when I go to sleep. So, what’s a tired guy to do?
Courtesy of GoogleThe poor guy - I empathize!

Courtesy of Google
The poor guy – I empathize!

Now, you would think I would just go to sleep before her. However, it rarely works out that way, and I as I told you I tend to be more alert at bed time than my wife ( So, that’s out. What can I do?


I could just grin and bear it. Nah – I got to be me.
First, I try shushing my wife. The snores get louder and I call out “shhhhh.” Believe it or not this works sometimes. Well, a snore or two is quieter.
Step two is pulling the blanket over my head. I don’t mind doing this in the winter. However, it doesn’t really help as the snores penetrate my blanket shield.
Third, I put a pillow over my ears. Nope same issue as the blanket.
Next, I get a bit pushy. I give my wife a gentle shove. I figure maybe if she readjusts then the snores may stop. Rarely works.
At this point, I am getting frustrated. The night time is slipping away. And I imagine myself having a sleepless night.  Then, I have to go to work exhausted and have a rotten day. Then my imagination really takes off: I get fired, develop a disease, and start World War III. OMG – I have to sleep. The snoring must stop.
I pull out the big guns.


I put a pillow over my wife’s face – gently. Or I pull a blanket all the way up so that it covers her face – leaving room for air of course. I don’t want to suffocate her. She doesn’t see it this way. Recently, I woke her up when attempting to quiet the snoring.
“What are you doing?”
“What are you trying to suffocate me?”
“No, it’s just you were snoring and I couldn’t sleep and…”
“I have a cold. Do you mind?”
“Well, actually…” I am ready to explain that she sometimes snores even without a cold. But I recognize it is not the time to argue. “Sorry.”
She doesn’t answer. And in a couple of minutes the snoring continues, but its quieter now.
Maybe, the fear of being suffocated has somehow caused my wife to turn down her snoring. I would never do it you know – suffocate her that is. But I am thankful the threat of it has quieted her. After all, I need my sleep. Who wants World War III?

It’s Funny – Right?

The other day someone told me they had a cancer scare. And I laughed. Wait, wait, wait. Before you judge me, I am not some insensitive beast. Really, I’m not. The woman was reading a piece she had written. She found a lump and was freaked out. The story focused primarily on the anxiety she faced while uncertain if it was malignant, and how the doctors completely lacked any bedside manner. Then, there was the medical staff who instructed her that she would have to wait weeks before even seeing the doctor. Maybe, you had to be there. I don’t know. But it was funny stuff – trust me. Hey, don’t judge. I’m not the only one who thinks anxiety is funny. Heck, Woody Allen has made a career out of this sort of thing!

I love the Three Stooges. I used to wake up early Sunday mornings to watch the fools. Well, early by teenage standards. I’d grab some breakfast, plop myself in front of the television, and turn to channel 29 at 10:00. Smacking faces, pulling hair, hitting heads together – more, more, more. Loved it! My father would come down the stairs, watch for a moment and then look at me. He’d turn up his face and ask, “What are you laughing at? What’s so funny?”

I did not appreciate his interruption. “Huh. I don’t know. It’s just funny.”

He’d turn to watch for another moment, imitate my cackling (that’ what he always called it), and mutter, “Why is it funny to see people hit each other?”

Why not? Many people loved the Stooges who, like Mr. Allen, had a long, successful, and lucrative career. It’s called slapstick. And I loved it. You liked it too, right? You got up early on Sunday mornings or flipped on the television as soon as you got home from school to watch the Stooges and laughed your ass off as they smacked each other around. Right?

“It’s not nice to laugh, Daddy,” SY reprimanded me. He had tripped, his arms went flailing and he said, “Oomph.” He was fine. Okay, he had a couple of little marks on his body but nothing earth shattering. There wasn’t even any blood. So, I laughed. You would have laughed too if you had seen it. Hilarious.

Look, I said in the “About” section that I laugh at weird times. I am not a masochist. I feel empathy. I wait until I see the person is fine…then, I laugh. Not weird, nothing wrong with that. This does not hearken back to some deep-seated issues. I’m fine. Really.