Movember

Movember is the one month event when men show their support for prostate and testicular cancer awareness by growing a mustache.  A great cause for sure, but personally, I think it's an excuse to look like a hipster.

Nonetheless, I gave it a shot and participated, at least for a few days.  I knew my wife would not be on board with my parting with the razor.  She has sensitive skin, so if I want to kiss her, I’d better take care of business.  But here posed a great excuse not to shave, a loophole if you will, so I jumped on it. 

In my thirties, I'm thankful for the fact that I am not a hairy man.  I didn’t start shaving regularly until my twenties, and even today, my ‘stache came in pretty light.  But with a pregnant wife at home, I have a lot of free time on my hands.  So I present, my movember surprise.

Some people can this pull this look off.  Ron Swanson, Ron Burgundy and Ron Jeremy to name a few.  Wait a minute, maybe you have to be named Ron?  No, My dad has rocked a mustache for as long as I can remember, in fact he looks strange without it. For others, myself included, not so much.

I did manage to raise awareness, at least in my household. My wife is aware that I look like a—how did she put it—oh yes, a sketchy child molester who “skeeved” her out.  So much for my support.  I tried Movember, I really did. Unfortunately, I will have to find another way to champion your cause, preferably a way that doesn't involve me looking like a hipster sleazeball. But it wasn't all in vain, I did get a kiss for my troubles…after I shaved of course.

Sleeping Alone...

For the past two nights I have slept like a baby and because of this I feel somewhat guilty.  As my wife’s mid section grows, her sleeping has gotten more and more erratic.  She takes anywhere between 8-10 bathroom trips each night, tossing from side to side and using as much space as possible while doing so. 

A few days ago she came down with a cold that left her completely miserable, especially at night.  She began snoring heavily—like scared the dogs heavily—so the other night while she was tossing and turning, I snuck out.  I snuck out on my pregnant, sick wife, what a jerk.

I headed down the hall for the guest room.    The bed felt a bit softer than normal, the pillows were fluffed as if they had been prepared to my liking for a good night’s rest.  Oh wow, I thought, stretching out, this is nice. I didn't know it could feel like this.  I closed my eyes, quickly surrendering to a deep uninterrupted sleep. 

I woke up the next morning refreshed, in fact I had overslept; my wife woke me, asking me if I planned on going to work, (I had forgotten to put the do not disturb sign out).  I hopped out of bed well rested and recharged, ready to take on the day with a smile on my face.  I Pushed back the tinge of guilt, got dressed and headed to the kitchen for breakfast.  School was pushed back a couple of hours due to the rain hurricane so I kissed my loving wife on the forehead and went off to work.

I thought it was a one time thing.  I vowed not to do it again.  The next night, we said goodnight before going to sleep, like any other happily married couple who doesn’t keep things from each other.  I tried to sleep, drifting at times before my attention was jerked by the tossing and sneezing and snoring.  I waited until around midnight and made my move.  I climbed out of bed, walking softly down the hall to my luxurious unoccupied sleep suite, pulling back the covers and digging in for a second night of peaceful sleep. 

I’m awful, I know.  My poor pregnant wife is sick and here I am slinking off down the hall to oblivion.  I don’t want us to become a couple who sleeps in separate beds, I like sleeping next to her….or at least I did.  It feels like betrayal, but then, when I’m hanging on to a sliver of the mattress, grasping for dear life, scared of just what is happening behind my back,  I start to think about the empty bed…calling my name from the soft cottony uninhibited sheets.  I'm so weak....well rested....but weak.