Sleep and those little slices of death….

Awhile back I started noticing that Mr. Gaga and i had stopped bouncing out of bed in the morning.

We kind of sit up slowly, then swing our legs to get our feet touching the floor.  Then there’s the heaving the body up and out of the bed, and that’s when we notice the stiff neck, the tight back, sometimes stiff legs.

As a chronic hypocondriac I have been known to pepper Mr. Gaga with medical questions quite regularly.  Lately, I found myself pointing to something on my neck or back and asking if he thought it was normal for it to hurt on the daily.

“I think we need a new bed.” I finally said a few weeks ago.

“We aren’t that old, we shouldn’t be this rickety,” I explained.

Mr. Gaga is always terrified of change and has been sleeping on a pillow that resembles a pancake for years because he swears its the only pillow that doesn’t bother his neck.

“Our bed is fine.” he answered decisively.

“No – it’s ten years old and we are getting a new bed. We deserve a bed.” I reasoned.

Off we went and we picked out a luxurious bed that was recommended by friends.  It was extremely firm which would help our backs and necks.

I bought a fresh new crisp down comforter and splurged at Nordstrom on two pillows that really cost more than I care to think about, but that promised to provide amazing lumbar support!!  I hid the pancake pillow in a safe place just in case these million dollar pillows didn’t work out.

We gave our bed to Michael, figuring that for his little body it would be quite perfect.  His two-year old bed with very soft pillow-top luxury went to Sam and Sam’s hand-me down bed that was 8 years old went in the garbage.

Always the fan of POTTERY BARN – the boys were able to pick out the sports bedding of their choice – and we got rid of any lamps or accessories that was deemed “baby-ish.”

Sunday night we were all so excited to go to sleep in our new beds.

I just wanted to feel as though I was in a cloud.  I think that I deserve that.

Seriously - how badly do you want to just jump into this right now??
Seriously – how badly do you want to just jump into this right now??

The next morning we were all cautiously optimistic about our new lives as human beings that slept on proper beds.

None of our backs hurt and we all had a good night’s rest.  To be positive that our lives were changed forever we would need one more night – but we were fairly certain that things were looking up.

“Did you love the pillow? Please say you loved the pillow…it really cost a lot of money…” I begged Mr. Gaga.

“I think it could be good…but I can’t be sure yet..” he said hesitantly.

It would take one more night to be really sure.

But Monday morning something happened that would ruin all of our chances to find out about the joys of sleeping or the luxury of a bed that is suited perfectly for our bodies and our lumbar systems.

During a quiet morning we were completely caught off guard.

The TODAY SHOW was on while we ate our breakfast.  The kids were eating cereal quietly.  Just the sound of their clinking spoons and Matt Lauer were behind me as I made their lunches at the counter.

Suddenly, they were screaming and crying.  I whipped around quickly when I realized they were in distress.

They both had their eyes closed and were screaming “Turn it!! Turn it!!”

I couldn’t understand what was happening.  “What?!” I screamed frantically, but then I looked at the television.  Matt Lauer was gone.

And this fucking bitch was in his place.

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Um…. you’re not Matt Lauer….

Yes, Warner Brothers Pictures decided that it would be a great idea to show a trailer for their movie, Annabelle, that would make a grown adult shit their pants at 7:45 AM.  This movie preview aired when innocent children are eating their cereal minding their own business, waiting for Al Roker to tell them if it will be hot out.

That evening I found myself tortured all night long.

Both children couldn’t sleep, claiming that every time they closed their eyes they saw “that doll.”

Finally, Sam fell asleep after I coached him to think about Halloween candy, the beach, and Santa Claus.

Michael could not be consoled that easily.

“I keep seeing the doll!” he cried.

"It's just a doll...it's fake....just don't think about it..." I said. "Plus you don't have any dolls so you are safe."
“It’s just a doll…it’s fake….just don’t think about it…” I said. “Plus you don’t have any dolls so you are safe.”

He kept calling me to his room, and with tears in his eyes would explain that he couldn’t possibly go to sleep with this image in his head.

Every fifteen minutes I had to press pause on my DVR and go up and reassure him that the movie trailer was fake, the doll was fake and that everything would be okay.

I rubbed his back until it seemed like his breathing slowed.  I slowed down my back rubbing until I stopped my hand and rested it on his shoulder to see if he was asleep. He shot up into a seated position, “Don’t leave!” he begged.

I would go downstairs, and then would find myself back upstairs rubbing his back again shortly.

The torture continued until I decided to just go to bed myself.

I could hear him crying in his room so I invited his huge grown adult body into bed with me and a 3 hour deep REM sleeping Mr. Gaga.

“Now go to sleep,” I whispered as I turned out the light.

I dozed off quickly with his body pressing against my back but was shortly woken up by sobbing.

” Michael! STOP! You are going to wake up your father!” I whispered impatiently, “It’s fine – we are here, now stop this!”

He sniffed and calmed down a bit, and I quickly dozed off again.

Suddenly I was awoken again by my new heavenly bed shaking with Michael’s heaving body.

I am too old for this shit.  I purposely had my children young so I wouldn’t be in my late-30’s and lose sleep from a crying child.

I jumped out of bed and dragged him out by his hands.  I whipped him out of the bed and dragged him to his room – nearly pulling his arm out of the socket.

It was one AM.

“Get in bed!!!” I yelled while simultaneously flipping on every light I could find. “Read some books and get your shit together!” I yelled impatiently.

I frantically reached into his book shelf and whipped a bunch of books on top of this bed.

“I feel like I am going to throw up.” Michael said helplessly while he sat upright in his spanking new Pottery Barn Teen Mets Bed.

I ran to the bathroom and grabbed the wastebasket and threw it next to his bed. “Here.” I said as I turned to go back to my room.

I retreated back to my bed.  I laid down and closed my eyes and just as I started to doze off I heard his sobbing again.

I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

I resolved that I would go to sleep and he would have to figure it out on his own.

The sobs continued and suddenly Mr. Gaga threw our new bedding off of his body and stomped out of our room and into Michael’s bed.

*The bad thing about giving your queen-size bed to your 8 year-old, is that there’s no good reason why you can’t sleep with him when he’s sobbing.

The next morning I stumbled out of bed and woke up the children.  We were all bleary-eyed at the kitchen table eating breakfast silently.  I sipped at my coffee contemplating my day ahead and my night before.

“Do you think that Michael needs psychological help?” I whispered to Mr. Gaga as I made the kids’ lunches.

“No.” he answered shortly.

“I guess Mommy doesn’t like to help children when they are scared…” he announced to the kitchen.

“Yeah – she threw comic books at me.” Michael whimpered.

Mr. Gaga looked at me disapprovingly while I sipped my coffee.

“It’s a fake doll!!” I screamed at everyone defensively.

They all looked back at me with disgust.

Mr. Gaga spoke to Michael and gave him a good luck charm to make him feel safer and the sleep schedule is getting better around here – but I don’t blame myself for not comforting Michael at one o’clock in the morning.

I blame WARNER BROTHERS PICTURES for this travesty.

Children are eating their Pop-tarts   donuts  cake  Cheerios, thinking about all that’s right and wonderful in this world  in the morning before school.  They don’t need to be tortured by some fucking twat doll that comes to life and murders people.

This is not appropriate for the breakfast table you fucking assholes.
This is not appropriate for the breakfast table you fucking assholes.

Now instead of being a well-rested woman that sleeps atop billows of cotton candy….I look like this:

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Does this look like someone with a new bed?? I don’t think so.

I hope your happy, Warner Brothers.

I hope your ticket sales are through the roof.

I told a friend of my plight, to explain my horrendous looks.

“You know it’s based on a true story….from a possessed doll in Connecticut.” she told me gravely.

Holy fucking shit balls.
Holy fucking shit balls.

We are trying to move past this.

We are trying to enjoy our new beds and million dollar pillows.

Pray for us.

DON’T JUDGE ME! I AM TOO OLD TO BE WOKEN UP!!! PLEASE CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME AS THE FUNNIEST MOM IN AMERICA!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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15 thoughts on “Sleep and those little slices of death….

  1. Oh, wow. I really feel for you. Seriously though, aren’t there certain designated times for televising stuff like that? I remember when my parents watched The Exorcist on TV and just the sounds coming from the living room made me completely inconsolable. My dad did almost the same thing you started off with. I do totally get your frustration – I was never one for keeping youngsters in my bed. That used to drive me nuts.

    PS- I saw The Conjuring with the first appearance of Annabelle and that twat doll (good one!) freaked me the fuck out!

  2. The only thing creepier than clowns are dolls.

    Bobina and I have ben talking about getting a new bed, same reasons as y’all. If I can convince her the bags under our eyes will look sexier, maybe it will happen soon.

  3. Get out of my life! My nine yr old is bed hopping due to the monster in her closet. We are on week three of this nightmare. I have spent the last two nights on a Jennifer sofa bed from 1995 after getting pushed out of my king size bed by the kid AND dog. I love your blog 😉

  4. No lady uses the ugly words you love to use. I hope that doll is shown on TV again and scares a little decency into you. Also, I think that the proper term is “I was awakened,” not “I was woken up.” Your whole vocabulary leaves much to be desired. I adored my 4 children, and was very happy to have them crawl into bed with me and to cuddle blissfully. Get a heart and wash your tater trap out with soap. I do not believe in reproving folks publicly, but in your case, I shall make an exception. I hope you do not use such low-class language in front of your poor children.

      1. I was going to leave a comment here about wishing you luck or something but I can’t stop laughing over “tater trap”!!! Holy hell, I gotta use that sometime!
        Now, let us pray…

  5. Oh yeah, and to the lame-o poster Grace Baumeister who clearly needs a visit from Annabell the scariest doll ever invented – shut up and go read a post by someone who never uses foul language ever. Jeez.

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