"...she writes about the
joys and foibles of parenthood, work and modern life in a way that
causes you to nod your head in recognition. And she does it without an
ounce of self-righteousness, condescension or sappiness.
-Fort Worth Weekly
Read one of the collections from the book.
Like millions of
Americans, I am a light sleeper. I mean a really, really
light sleeper. I live 20 miles from the airport and I am
often awakened by the sound of airplanes flying miles above my
bed. I don’t sleep with lights on, or music, or the
television. In fact, I hold my breath all night to avoid the
sound of air rushing in and out of my nose. Okay, not really,
but I need darkness and quiet in order to get a good night’s
rest.
My sister is not a light sleeper. My sister could sleep
through a war movie with surround sound at the highest volume on the
world’s loudest speakers. It is simply
incredible. She must go beyond REM sleep.
She’s almost on COMA sleep.
Anyway, during the holidays we went to my folks’ home to
spend some quality time together, all six of us. Just like
the old days except now I have two teenagers so Mom insisted on cooking
two pans of biscuits every morning.
Here’s the problem. My folks have three
bedrooms. That meant that I had to share a bed with my
sister. The last time we shared a bed, she was four and I
woke up with three toes in my mouth. Well, many moons have
passed so I thought, “This will be fun like a little slumber
party. We’ll talk all night and really
bond.”
What was I thinking? I suspected all along that the noise I
heard the last time I spent the night at her home was not the icemaker
or the air conditioner like she surmised. No, that noise was
her. The woman snores like she’s being paid to do
it. I’ve been to concerts that weren’t as
loud. True, she had a cold and she was very tired but good
grief. All of our bonding dissolved after about thirty
minutes of her bugle blowing.
I started out by shaking her gently. That didn’t
work. Then I sort of tried to push her on her side.
She rolled over and kept right on snoring. Next, I put two
pillows over her head. They barely muffled the
sound. In desperation, I punched her in her back as hard as I
could. She didn’t freakin’
move. She didn’t even pause from snoring for a
moment.
Exasperated, I sought refuge in the bedroom with my
sons’. They were in a king sized bed but I
couldn’t find an inch of space between them. They
were sprawled out like they heard me coming. I just wanted a
little room at the foot of the bed. Have you smelled the feet
of any teenage boys’ lately?
I continued my pilgrimage with a stop in the den where a nice, big sofa
awaited me. It was right next to the nice, big fish aquarium
with the world’s loudest pump. I convinced myself
that the fish could survive one night without carbonated
water. I was about to pull the plug when I noticed one of the
fish staring at me. He looked so mean. He opened
and closed his little mouth. I swear he said,
“I’ve got friends that walk. If anything
happens to me, you’re history.”
So I took my little pillow and blanket to the living room where my
mother showcases the world’s smallest couch.
It’s very cute but it’s obviously designed for
people with very small rear ends. The cushions are about ten
inches wide. If I lay on my left side, my knees floated in
the air; the cold, “we turn the thermostat down at
night” air. If I lay on my right side, my not so
small rear end hung over the edge and it was hard to keep my balance,
but at least the flashing Christmas lights outside the window
didn’t seem so bright.
So I harnessed myself to a hook on the wall behind the sofa using the
belt on my housecoat and spent the night dreaming I was falling off a
cliff.
The next morning, I had packed the car before anyone else
arose. I packed everyone’s stuff. I told
my kids to wear the clothes they tossed on the floor before going to
bed My sister refused to drive because she was
sore. She didn’t know why and I didn’t
tell her.
Next time, I’m staying at a hotel by myself no matter what
Mama says. ###
© Monica Frazier
Anderson 2003. All Rights Reserved
