Of Masks, Milla Jovovich, and Gerard Butler

The Rooster is walking a dinosaur up my leg. In the opening words of every “Charlie and Lola” show, “he is small, and very funny.” He is, too.

Eeny’s arranged his dinosaurs very neatly around the tv. There are three easily accessible flat surfaces in the living room, and he picks the most complicated of the three. My child is a genius. LOL

DH is neither small, nor particularly funny. On purpose, that is. He was diagnosed with severe sleep apnea two weeks ago. His CPAP (it’s a breathing machine) arrived the night before last. Thanks to our insurance company’s fondness for red tape and paperwork, the medical supply company had to wait until they got approval from the insurance company before they could ship it. Said approval took a week. I’m sorry, how hard is it for someone to look at the information (28 year old male with sats consistently in the 70s during an apnea episode, with well over 800 of these episodes a night), and say yes. I’m cranky from a week longer than necessary of snoring, tossing and turning, and a husband who has finally discovered that there’s a reason for his exhaustion, and it’s not his schedule. It’s been a looooong few months.

So anyway, the machine has arrived. It fits well, he sleeps well with it, and the only complication we’ve had with it is that Eeny won’t stay in his usual spot, right next to TheHusband’s arm, in the middle of the night. The kids sleep with us. As long as at least one of them sleeps well, it works for us. We have a king sized bed, and there’s room for everybody. The addition of the mask to our sleep routine has temporarily (I hope) disrupted that. We discussed the option of giving it a name. Something that appeals to a two year old, that might make it less scary. We’re also weird people who occasionally name personal possessions. Case in point: I update this blog on a Dell Inspiron christened Lappy, after Strong Bad’s latest model.

Anyway, TheHusband shot down Masky (never really on the table to begin with) and Dylan. Why Dylan? I don’t know. I probably had some crazy association due to watching an SNL rerun with Jason Priestley as host. Of course, I was several years too young to fully appreciate the glories of 90210, but I could identify all of the main cast members. Anyway, Dylan has been vetoed. Then, TheHusband said if anything’s going to be on his face all night, it’s going to have a woman’s name. He suggested Milla (as in Jovovich). I told him if he did that, I’d get myself a “toy” and name it Gerard (Butler). Not so funny when the shoe’s on the other foot now, is it, Husband, eh?

He does have a thing for Milla Jovovich. It doesn’t really bug me, unless I stop to consider that I am sooo not her type. He’s a Milla in “The Fifth Element” fan. The tall, rail thin, bright blue eyes, and meh sized rack just get to him. It amuses me to no end that he ended up with me. I’m tall, but not overly so. I used to be pretty thin, but I’ve had two babies. I’m not fat, I’m just bigger than I used to be. He’s soooo not a boob guy. I have a set designed to impress. I’ll consider a reduction someday after we’re done having kids. The H-cup plus the 34 band size makes for a sometimes uncomfortable combination. On the other hand, it looks pretty darn good on me. I’ll keep them for now.

The worst drawback to the mask as apnea treatment I can think of is that it puts an end to the surprise middle of the night sex sessions. They’re how we got the Rooster, and I’ll be sad to see them go. Not like there’s been too much of that around here anyway. Please mentally add a heavy sigh after reading that sentence. That’s also been the worst side effect of the apnea in general. How many men are legitimately “too tired” for sex? I mean really, how annoying. I thought I was supposed to be the one fending off advances several times a week. No, instead, our evenings go with me making some sort of advance, and him shooting me down in about 5 seconds flat. I sincerely hope that once he gets used to the mask, and is actually getting some good sleep, he’ll have a sex drive again. I’ve reached consensus with Ani and Beej. I’m tall, nice, have a great chest and the ass isn’t half bad either, an extremely reasonable sex drive, and I put up with waaaaay more shit than I should. Which of these qualities is not to like in one's spouse?