One More Reason Why You Don't Want to Spend the Night with Me

So maybe you can overlook the fact that I have four kids ranging in age from Loud to Just Busted My Ear Drum. Perhaps you can even get over the fact that the only bed I have to offer you is a kids twin size bed, trundle or bunk. But what are you going to think, when you wake up at 1:12 in the morning to find a wide-eyed, crazy haired, forty year old woman standing quietly at the foot of your bed?

That's my brother's dilema this morning.

For the record, "Sorry, Dude."

It's just that I have this anxiety thing. It usually takes me about six months after we move into a new house for my subconcious to learn all the thumps, bumps and creaks during the night. This move has been the exception to the rule. Four years in and I still find myself waking up in the middle of the night with adrenaline rushing through my body, having just heard some noise. My husband often finds me standing at the bedroom window and says "Are you o.k.?" "Yea, I just heard Maverick barking across the street." "Do you see anything?" "No. It looks good." After learning his services are not required, he usually rolls over and goes back to sleep. Some nights, it's a noise I can't identify and after determining that the anxiety isn't going to subside, I have to give him an elbow in the side so he can jump up, turn in to his alter ego, Super Fruit of the Loom Man and search the far reaches of the house so I can go back to sleep.

I've tried a lot of things. I try to talk myself out of it. I pray to Jesus. I pretend it's daylight outside. I turn on every outside light we have and sometimes leave a radio playing softly on the back porch. Surely no intruder in his right mind would come around the back, if he thought someone was chillin on the patio. Unless he's in a party kind of mood. I've slept with big sticks by the side of my bed. And the thing that usually works for me is locking my bedroom door.

That kind of logic only makes me more insane. What kind of woman, afraid that some terrible intuder is coming in the house to get her, leaves her children unprotected down the hall, while she locks herself in her own room. Oh, I've thought about it. But realistically, I can't have the kids sleep with me, as I don't want my crazy to rub off. So I tell myself that it's o.k. because I know nobody's breaking in the house.

Last night I tried calling Charlie at 1:00 a.m., but evidently his phone wasn't getting a signal. Or maybe he didn't want to play Super Fruit of the Loom Man long distance on the phone. I layed down and tried to talk myself out of it after I had surveyed the neighborhood from my upstairs window. Finally I got up and decided it would be required that I go downstairs and check all the door and window locks. Downstairs. Without Fruit of the Loom Man. I stood at the end of my brother's bed with Crazy Woman on one shoulder and Logic Girl on the other.

"Don't wake him up, you can do iiit."

"Yea, but if you tell him you're going downstairs, that way, he'll be able to call the police when he hears you scream."

"Don't be an Ass, there's nobody down there."

"Maybe, but what about that screen the kids played with yesterday? Don't you think they left the window unlocked."

"Shit."

"Mmm-hmm. Now what you got to say for yourself? You know he left the keys in his car too. The one with your house key on it."

"Shit. SHIT!"

Whereupon my brother opens his eyes and sits up, having sensed being in the presence of an unstable mind. "Huh? What?"

"Um, did you just get up and go to the bathroom, cause ... I just thought I heard someone get up? Was that you?"

"No."

"Oh. Okay. Just checkin. See you in the morning."

Having secured my unwitting back-up, I headed downstairs to find all windows and doors secured. All keys in place. No one hiding in the utility room. I turned on all the porch lights and headed back to my room, locked the door, and went back to sleep.

I wonder if tonight, he'll feel compelled to knock on my door in the middle of the night to tell me he's got to go tee-tee.