The Joys of Marriage, XIII

Sleeping habits: Robin and I are night owls and usually get a surge of energy around 8:00 pm. Neither of us snores so bedtime is peaceful, other than the cat nuzzling our faces during the night. Mornings are a whole different story. One of us wakes up, one doesn't.

I'm the one who has a hard time dragging my lazy butt out of the bed. In the beginning, it was Robin. He had to have two cups of coffee before I could say "good morning" to him. Somewhere along the way, it changed. And it changed drastically.

Now it's Robin telling me to either hit the snooze button or get up. This goes on through about 4 snooze button punches. My wake-up call is from the radio by my bed. Robin uses Garfield who is across the room and he has to actually get up to hit snooze. So, we're listening to the oldies and Garfield yelling "time to get up, sleepy head, time to get up". Or if Robin hits snooze, we hear "OK, go back to bed, sleep longer." It's annoying, but I bought the Garfield clock for him when we were dating. I never expected to live with it.

When Garfield is finally shut up for the day, Robin makes coffee and brings it to me in bed. I used to do that for him, but times have changed. I'm comatose in the mornings. And I need peace and quiet when I finally do get up. I want to sit there and sip coffee while my eyelids are trying desperately to open, all in a peaceful environment. It doesn't happen. Mornings are the time when the mischieveous little boy in Robin wakes up and wants to play.

"Are you awake yet?" I mumble that I'm getting there. He asks again. I answer. Then he asks again. I don't answer. We're beating a dead horse here. Then he goes into a long rendition of his nose song while I stew in silence and hope he hasn't come down with a cold. Some mornings he creates his own lyrics to certain songs, such as this one:

You ask me how I knew
Our romance was through
It must have been the guys
I saw between your ...

Well, you get the picture. This morning he jumped in front of me to block my path every time I moved, shut me in the closet, and sang "Happy Trails to You" in the shower. I should have lived with him first.

Robin says he's having fun because he never had a childhood. "Don't childhoods end after 18 years?", I ask him. Besides, I've raised three kids and I'm not up to doing it again with an over-grown boy who likes to pester. I'm glad he wakes up in such a good, playful mood, but have some consideration for those of us who don't. He thinks I'm old and stuffy, I think he's immature. Thankfully, we don't let these differences destroy our relationship.

As the day wears on, the little boy in him is still playful while the man in him is peeking through with a look I know well. I try to make the transition between the two and it's confusing. I love the many sides of my husband but shutting one down and putting my focus on another is hard. It's the age-old difference between men and women and what floats their boats.

Unfortunately, there are often negative consequences to hanging onto childhood. I wish there was a snooze button that could be pushed that would put us all on the same page. Sometimes I still see the little boy in front of me when he asks, "Aren't you in the mood?"

There's only one answer I can give. "I'm not a pedophile."