As I’ve told you before, we’re big fans of “The Walking Dead” in the Jovi house. The first season was rad; the second season was OK (I liked it more than DadJovi did. He was ready to quit the show if they didn’t get off the farm). So far this season, it’s been non-stop action … and that’s an awesome thing, as long as you can stomach about 128 Walkers getting a bullet/knife/baseball bat/machete/arrow to the head each episode. For the uninitiated, they’re Walkers … not zombies (click here to read why).
I don’t know why it’s taken me three seasons to realize it, but I’m totally married to a Walker.
No, he’s not the undead, wandering around aimlessly trying to feast on human flesh. But come nightfall, he basically turns into a zombie.
You see, DadJovi is a sleepwalker. And he doesn’t just sleepwalk — he sleep eats, sleep drinks and sometimes sleep Web surfs. He looks like he’s awake; his eyes are open and everything, but he’s not really awake and if you try to talk to him, he’s out of it.
Minus the half missing face (and prison uniform), this is pretty much what he looks like come 1 a.m.
The next day, he never has any recollection of his nighttime antics. And it’s starting to turn ME into a zombie.
Take last night for example. Unlike usual, I didn’t hear him when he got out of bed. But around 2:30 a.m. I was awakened by a loud annoying noise and a light shining in my eyes. At some point, he’d gone to the bathroom in our bedroom and left the door open, with the lights on and the obnoxiously loud fan running.
As I stumbled out of bed to go turn the lights off, I tripped over something — a one-gallon jug of iced tea. Apparently he’d not only gone to the bathroom, but he’d made a pit stop in the kitchen and brought the iced tea jug back to bed.
Of course, he has no memory of doing this.
This isn’t the first time his nighttime antics have interfered with my sleep. Before I had E., I used to be a really sound sleeper and it didn’t bother me as much. But now, every sound in the house wakes me (I should mention that we have a one-story house, so it’s not that hard to hear everything). He’s woken me up by pouring bowls of cereal, clanging around in the cabinet for a glass and turning on ESPN on the living room TV at full blast — all while HE’S sleeping.
Once I find him, I’ll tell him to go back to bed and he stumbles off toward the bedroom without a look back.
I know the sounds throughout the house might still keep me up, but I have a new idea — Lucy and Ricky beds!
Usually the thing that wakes me is his constant up and down all night long. He’ll get up at 1:15, stumble out to the kitchen, chug some milk, then come back to bed. I’ll fall back asleep, only to be awakened at 2:30 a.m. by him doing the same thing. And this goes on over and over again all night long. It’s not every night, but on the nights that it happens once, it usually happens at least three or four times.
And then there are his 6′ 00′ limbs that are ALWAYS on my side of the bed. I should mention that we do have a king-sized bed. Do they make King Kings? Because I think we need a bigger bed, especially on the nights when E. shows up and I have to sleep between the two of them with their flailing limbs and tossing and turning. Why can’t they just sleep STILL? I fall asleep in one place and, on an interrupted night, wake up in the same exact spot.
The two of them have been known to drive me out of our bed and into the guest room bed. But that usually backfires on me. At some point, they BOTH end up following me there, and that one is only a queen-sized bed. I swear, our house is like Grand Central Station some nights.
Lest you think me some heartless, cold wife, in the words of President Obama, let me be clear: I DO enjoy sharing a bed with my husband. And in fact, I sleep worse when he’s out of town, although I think a lot of that is because I’m even more paranoid about break-ins on those nights. But I also think a good uninterrupted night’s sleep would do me good from time to time.
So what do you think? Can we make Lucy and Ricky beds a thing again? Listen, if they were still able to make a Little Ricky, clearly there would be some crossover events (it’s like when the Kelly Taylor from 90210 would suddenly show up on Melrose Place: it was new, unexpected and exciting).
If people really had separate beds in the 1950s, I’m starting to think that it could explain their lower divorce rates.
Any tips for stopping a sleepwalker? For him, it’s been a lifelong issue. E. hasn’t shown any signs of it yet (other than wandering into our room every so often), so I’m hoping it’s not genetic!