I’m a light sleeper. With four kids, I’m always on alert for nighttime interruptions, especially when one of them might stumble in to report a bedtime mishap. My daily consumption of Diet Coke doesn’t help either, as it leads to frequent trips to the bathroom. However, the true culprit behind my sleepless nights is my husband, who rests peacefully beside me, dreaming of idyllic meadows, while his snoring resembles the sound of a lawn mower struggling to start.
There’s nothing cute about snoring. At 3 a.m., I don’t gaze over at him and think, “Oh, isn’t he adorable, snoring away with his mouth agape?” Instead, I’m consumed by thoughts of how long I’d be sentenced if I decided to smother him with his own ergonomic pillow.
Over the course of our 15-year marriage, I’ve tried countless tactics to combat his snoring. Sometimes, I shake the bed violently to jolt him awake without fully disturbing his slumber. He often shifts positions, and for a moment, the snoring quiets, only to resume with renewed vigor. Other times, I give him a gentle nudge to adjust his head or strip away his covers to make him cold enough to stir. Occasionally, I just wallow in frustration, wishing he’d roll off the bed himself.
The snoring situation escalates when our five-year-old daughter decides to join us in bed, which happens nearly every night. Since my husband usually doesn’t notice her sneaking in, I try to maneuver into the middle of the bed so she can slip in without waking him. She enjoys holding my face while sleeping, which is sweet until she and her father start a duet of nasal symphonies. I’m stuck in the middle of a king-size bed feeling like the only sane person among two others making musical chaos.
And don’t suggest that I return her to her own bed. If I do, I risk waking the dog, who will then want to go outside. With coyotes lurking in the woods behind our house, I’m not about to open the door and let that happen! So, she stays until morning, and I start praying for a few moments of peace.
We’ve tried every remedy on the market—strips, patches, tablets—yet nothing works. His snoring is a well-honed skill; if snoring were an Olympic event, he’d be bringing home gold medals. He’s fully committed to the craft.
As a light sleeper, I sometimes find myself panicking in the silence, fearing he has stopped breathing. In those moments, I grab my phone, turn on the flashlight, and check to see if his chest is rising and falling. Thankfully, he’s always been alive during these wake-up calls. But when I confirm he’s just snoring quietly, I find myself annoyed that he’s made me worry. As a wife, I think it’s completely reasonable to be upset about potentially waking up next to a stiff.
Once I manage to rouse him enough to quiet the snoring, I close my eyes, dreaming of winning lottery numbers. Just as I’m about to hear the last number, the snoring resumes with a vengeance. I lose my composure and start thrashing around, shouting, “Stop snoring!” He turns to me, bleary-eyed, and asks, “What?”
And that, Your Honor, is why I believe my reactions are entirely justified.
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In summary, my husband’s relentless snoring has pushed me to the brink of sanity. Despite my efforts to manage it, the situation only worsens when our daughter joins us, creating a comical yet frustrating bedtime scenario. I’ve tried every remedy, but nothing seems effective, leaving me to navigate sleepless nights filled with worry and exasperation.