Schooled

"Mom?  How many states are there?" Lilly asks.

I KNOW THIS ONE

"There are 50 states in America, Lilly."

"No," she says, "like how many PLACES are there?"

"Places?"

"Yeah, like there's Ohio State and China and the park."

So just, like, literally every place?  I have no idea.

"Mom? I thought that there were seven continents but now I'm counting and if you include North Antartica and Sourh Antartica, then that's eight."

"Um . . . Maybe because I don't think there is any such thing as North and South Antartica?"

"Mom! Of course there is!  Otherwise all the polar bears would eat the penguins and there would be almost no penguins left!"

Here's the thing though. I really can't say with any kind of certainty that there isn't a North Antartica and South Antartica.  It doesn't exactly SOUND right, but it's been a long time since that was relevant in my life. Also, on the face of it it doesn't seem logical that penguins and polar bears have separate continents but what the hell do I know about wildlife?  The answer is less than I know about geography.

So I didn't argue with her. This seems like a job for School Teacher.

Adventures in Sleeping with Chris, Part II

So one thing I forgot to mention about Chris's nocturnal habits: moaning.

He moans.

A lot.

And with vigor. Imagine someone shouting at you, but they are also a zombie.

First, a silent , gentle, calm inhale.

OOORRRHHHAAAAAOOOoOoOo exhale.

It's frustrating from my end. Like, I understand snoring. You're congested, what are you going to do?  But moaning feels like a choice. Soooooo, if he could maybe not do that, that would be great.

It's also distressing. You know who moans?  People who are sad. Or upset.  Or are lying gut-shot on a battlefield.   Those people are moaning.

So I'm here, trying to go to sleep, and Chris is lying there, deliberately groaning like a civilian casualty of war.

It's upsetting.

Honestly, normally, it's not really a problem. I push him a little (super gently) and he startles himself awake enough to resume his normal business of chomping and leg spasms.

But the past week, it's been relentless. So, after spending the night on the couch, I decided to google it.

"Yes!"  The internet says, "I know exactly what you mean!  It's called Catathrenia and it is not a problem!"

Well.  I mean, it's kind of a problem.

"No, really! It's completely benign!  Not a big deal"

Well, again, Internet, I'm going to beg to differ.

So instead of googling, "what the fuck is wrong with my husband he's moaning in his sleep" I tried googling, "Catathrenia cure."

I see an article titled, "5 Tips for Battling Catathrenia."  I click on that because, clearly, we are about to show Catathrenia whose house it has entered and it will feel my wrath. Even if the cure is horrible for Chris, I'm willing to have him pay that price.

But here is the suggested battle plan:

1) Relax!  Not as in meditate to stop moaning, but, hey, relax, Catathrenia is totally not something to worry about.  At first, I didn't realize that this was actually listed as a step for battling Catathrenia, but I realized there weren't enough steps and went back and checked. Step one of our battle is to chill out, man.

This is not an appropriate attitude for battle, FYI.

2) make sure it is really Catathrenia, because if it something else, it might actually be a problem.  But if it is really Catathrenia, it's not a big deal.

Again, shut up.

3) use white noise.

Oh, yes, obviously, this 200 pound man lying a foot away from me and moaning like a goddamn wildebeest will fit right in with the sound of Rainfall in the Night Forest.

4) ear plugs

Maybe if you put in ear plugs you won't hear me tell you to shut up with your bullshit advice?

5) see a doctor!

Look, you just told me that the best five point plan of attack the whole internet could come up with was a) don't attack, b) verify that it isn't something actually worth attacking, c) ignore it, d) also ignore it. That's it. That our battle plan. Honestly, I don't think that doctors know things that Google doesn't. It's GOOGLE. Doctors are just better at deciphering.


If I'm counting, and I am, exactly none of those had shit to do with battling precisely anything.