My Wife is the Antichrist in the A.M.

Holy shit what a dangerous dangerous time of day the morning is in this house. You’d think it would be because of the kids…but it’s not….it’s the wifey—the angriest, most volatile human being on the planet in the morning. There are so many things that astound me about her mornings that I just don’t even know where to start.

She never sets an alarm clock. That in-and-of-itself would keep me from ever falling asleep for a second. I’d pick my massively oversized head up off my slumber cushion every two seconds to cast my eyes on those evil red digits on the clock checking…making sure my deadline hasn’t yet hit.

I go to sleep with two alarms set for shit-stake. That’s how mental I am about schedules.

Now, before unemployment grabbed me by the balls and dropped me to my knees, I used to get up at 4:30 a.m. to run every morning. Now…. I’ve got all day to run, so I sleep in!

By 6:18 a.m. it’s time to begin the lovely adventure of waking the wifey up.

We’ve been married for over a damn decade…you’d think I’d have thick-skin over this issue by now. You’d think I’d have some kick-ass routine down by now. No…I don’t….and it hurts. It hurts my heart….

Wifey in college sleeping...look how calm & delightful she looks, but evil lurks below.

I start by nudging her gently, “wifey (I actually use her real name) …it’s time to get up. Come on, it’s 6:18. Come on, wake up…”

“OK!! I hear you….Jesus I hear you, stop touching me and talking!!” are the words that come out of this delicate little flower as she flips over in bed.

“Did you just call me Jesus? Wow..that’s the kindest thing you’ve said in….”

“Ha-fucking-ha funny man…SHUT UP!!!”

I then get up, go in the boy’s room, lay in bed with him and slowly, lightly tickle him till he wakes up laughing his ass off. Then lay out his clothes, then head back into the lair.

Grabbing the wifey’s shoulder lightly and applying pressure, “hey – it’s 6:35. You need to get up honey.”

“I know!! You told me once, now, you’re telling me again. I liked it a hell of a lot better when you were running right now….I know how to WAKE UP!!”

Actually, this is where I need to leave myself a note every morning that reads:

Dear Idiot-Boy:

Well hey there sunshine!! Good morning to ya! Hey, I know you’re just crawling outta bed, eager to crawl into the basement and begin another day of hopeless job searching, but guess what slugger? Yeah!! You gotta wake up the wifey!!

Oh, she’s a finicky one…so taker easy. Poke her with a stick and run like hell man!! She’ll eventually wake up, and when she does…all she’ll want is more pillows and her blanky so she can sleep sitting up! Once that’s arranged, don’t say shit. Just keep on keeping on. Eventually….she’ll slide outta bed, turn around, and lean over so she’s still be supported by the bed, blanky, and pillow, but here’s where the bonus comes in…her buttocks clad with skin-colored panties will be poked in the air…BUT DON’T TOUCH!!! Just look. If you touch…she’ll cut you!

Now…here’s where you engage her in conversation to help her wake further. It seems like you’re not “telling” her to wake up, you’re “assuming” she’s “awake.”

You know how to take it from here. Good luck slugger….you’ll need it. And hey, make sure you put that cup on…..believe me…you’ll thank me!

Love,

WhyIsDaddyCrying