True Love Is Forgiving Your Spouse for Accusing You of Pooping the Bed

I debated about putting this funny memory on my blog, because it is still fairly embarrassing to me (even though it has been a few years since it happened). However, it is just too hilarious to not share, so here it goes...

Anyone who knows me well knows that I have a sleepwalking and sleep talking problem. The condition is definitely linked to stress, because anytime I get overwhelmed, my "incidents" increase substantially. My amazing husband puts up with my crazy alternate sleep-walking self incredibly well (except for last night when he woke me up from sleep talking by rudely sleep arguing with me. Apparently my persistent and annoying subconscious habit has awakened some sleep talking tendencies in him too).

We had only been married for about 4 years, and one night I had a dream that he got up out of bed, walked into the bathroom, and came back into the bedroom carrying a towel. He laid the towel down on his side of the bed, and that is when my nostrils were accosted with a very foul odor. I asked him what he was doing, and he casually said "Oh, I just had a little accident", as he laid the towel over the soiled spot on the sheet and climbed back in bed. I reacted the same way I would have if I were not dreaming - by looking at him in disgust, grabbing my pillow and a blanket, and stomping to the living room where I laid down on the couch to sleep.

Although this whole thing was a dream, it seemed very real. Even down to the smell of the poop. In fact, it was so realistic that I had actually gotten up and sleep-walked to the living room where I laid down on the couch and stayed there the rest of the night. 

The next morning, I woke up to Kevin walking into the living room with a very confused look on his face. He asked me why I was sleeping on the couch, and I said accusingly, "Because you crapped the bed!". As soon as I saw the look on his face after I made that statement, I realized that I had dreamed it all up. I was relieved that he didn't actually have a bowel movement in our bed, but I was also incredibly embarrassed that I thought it had really happened. I wish I had a snapshot of his expression, which was a strange mixture of surprise, amusement, and irritation. It takes talent to pull off that kind of expression. I could tell he was insulted (wouldn't you be?), and I tried to pretend that I was still asleep so that I wouldn't have to admit to him that I had thought my crazy dream was real. My act didn't work though, because I couldn't hold back my embarrassed giggles for very long. Thankfully, Kevin also has a sense of humor and quickly forgave me for insulting him.

Thanks for putting up with me and all of my sleepwalking weirdness, Kevin! True love is forgiving your spouse for accusing you of pooping the bed :)

The White Roller Coaster

I promised to write a sequel to last week's "Cannibal" memory, and here it is.

Not long after the first traumatizing experience on The Magic Carpet Ride with Alicia, she and I went with my older sisters to Lagoon. I tried to warn everyone that it might not work out well for Alicia to go on any of the rides, but she really wanted to come along so of course we couldn't leave her behind.

When we arrived at Lagoon, we decided we wanted to go on the White Roller Coaster ride (which is actually a very scary ride because it is so old and rickety), and my sisters told me that I would be riding next to Alicia. They couldn't have freaked me out more if they had told me I was going to be put on the next rocket to the moon. I begged and pleaded to ride with someone else, and I admit I was not very grown-up about it. I didn't even think about poor Alicia's feelings because I couldn't get the picture of her biting my arm out of my head. If she did that to me on a dinky little carnival ride, what would she do to me on a BIG roller coaster ride?!

Finally, my sister Julie decided to be a good sport and ride with Alicia. I rode with Summer, a family friend, and we were directly behind Alicia and Julie. Surprisingly, Alicia seemed fine, even after she got in her seat and the bar came down to hold her in place. I began to wonder if my other sisters were starting to think I made up the whole arm-biting experience...

But then, the ride started, and the roller coaster made its way up its first incline at an agonizingly slow pace. As the roller coaster ascended, I noticed Alicia's shoulders starting to ascend right along with it. I could see her body physically tensing up right in front of me, and I wondered if Julie noticed it.

The roller coaster slowly rounded the top of the first big hump, and as it started to descend, Alicia's tense shoulders suddenly slackened and her entire body went limp. Julie noticed at that point, and hurried to grab Alicia's wobbling head and hold it next to her own shoulder while we were tossed around the humps and turns of the extremely rough and rickety roller coaster ride. I have to hand it to Julie, because she somehow held Alicia's upper body relatively still throughout the entire ride. Once the ride came to a stop, Alicia finally woke up (apparently she had fainted) and stepped off the ride just as shakily as she had stepped off The Magic Carpet Ride. I was very glad that Julie agreed to ride with her that time.

Although it is fun to tease Alicia about these experiences, I actually have a lot of admiration for her because she continued to go on rides until she overcame her fear. I don't know a lot of people who would do that, and I really respect her for it. You're awesome Alicia (and beautiful)!

Scents and Memories

Isn’t it funny how the faintest scent can send you back in time to a singularly beautiful, long-forgotten moment?  Once such a moment is brought to your recollection, it is hard to let it go…

I had just stepped out the door to take Shiloh for an evening walk. The air was crisp and as clean as a looking glass. We walked about a block before we could see stubbly hills, which we love to explore whenever possible, looming in front of us. Suddenly, my nostrils welcomed a faint ribbon of smoky scent and I was instantly reminded of the snowy winter mornings of my childhood. The closer I came to the rolling sage-brush hills, the stronger the scent became. I looked around for the tell-tale stream of curling smoke rising towards the sky, but there was no sign of smoke or haze anywhere. The air was as clear as a polished button in every direction. Still, the mysterious scent grew stronger and more potent as I walked.

I inhaled more deeply with each breath, and long-lost memories were suddenly flirting with the corners of my recollection. By the time my feet left the blacktop and stepped onto the crunchy dirt path, I could see my childhood bedroom in my mind. I welcomed the memory like a refreshing burst of mountain air and allowed the scent to sweep me back to the home I loved so much.

It was a cold winter morning. It had taken me a few minutes to work up enough courage to throw the mountain of covers off of my gangly body and touch my bare feet to the chilly carpet. The wood-burning stove was located on the very opposite end of the house, which meant that the bedroom I shared with my five sisters was icebox cold every winter morning.  Mother made sure we had plenty of blankets to keep us well-insulated during the night, and because we had to sleep two-per-bed, we always had another person’s body heat to help keep us warm as we slept.

We never had the courage to leave our cocoons of warmth until we could hear dad in the living room, tossing slices of wood into the fire and crumpling up old pieces of newspaper to use as kindling. Sometimes we could hear him encouraging the tiny flames with warm breath from his lungs, and other times we could hear the whooshing of the hand-held bellows as he pumped its contents into the glowing pile of smoldering paper and wood. Within moments, we could hear the deep hum of the fire as it lit up the stove’s belly and radiated its impressive heat into the room. It was only when we heard these unmistakable signals of warmth that we would courageously dart from our beds to the living room while our nightgowns or silky pajamas flapped against our thin, cold-pricked legs. Of course, we had to make it past the freezing linoleum-floored kitchen first, but as soon as our feet hit the carpet of the hallway we knew we were moments away from blissful, bone-warming heat.

I never thought about the steel-gripped cold that dad had to face every morning in order to warm the house for the rest of us. It wasn’t until later that I realized he was showing us how much he loved us by carefully nursing that tiny fire to health day after day. 

As our shivering bodies soaked up the heat that leaked from the smooth black surface of the stove, we could almost feel tendrils of smoke weaving through our tangled hair and filling up the cold emptiness of the room. I miss everything about those mornings: the sweet, smoky fragrance of burning wood, the way my nightgown felt warm against my legs, and the feeling of togetherness we all shared as we huddled in the warmth of the fire and each others’ love. All the while, the snow lay in silent, soft bundles outside our living room window and marveled at the simple joy radiating from that tiny home.

The Cannibal

I was somewhere between the sensitive ages of 12 and 14 and I had never been to a carnival without my parents or an older sibling before. Going to the Springville carnival with just my little sister was very exciting to me, and I couldn't wait to get on the first exhilarating ride.

We walked around the fairgrounds for a while, trying to decide which ride to try out first. Because she was the youngest and most timid, it was up to Alicia to approve of any ride we were going to try. We stopped in front of the Magic Carpet ride, and Alicia agreed to give it a go.

If you are not familiar with this particular ride, let me try and explain how it works. There is a long row of seats that are connected to a high-backed platform. The seats have padded harness bars that come down on both shoulders and hold you in place while also giving you something to hold onto. The ride rotates clockwise, then switches to counter-clockwise at a rate that is fast enough to give your stomach butterflies.

We sat in two adjacent seats, and as soon as the harness bars started to come down, Alicia began to panic and plead "I don't want to do this! I don't want to do this!". I thought she would be ok. I expected her to recover quickly and to enjoy the ride as soon as it started. What I didn't expect was to look over at her as the ride began to rotate and see the nightmare-inducing image of a pale ghost-like head flopping around like a rag doll. To say the sight was disturbing would be an understatement.

I let go of the harness bar, reached my hand towards her, and in a panic asked "are you ok Alicia????" She didn't answer. Instead, she leaned her head down towards my arm, and the next thing I knew she was biting my forearm with alarming intensity. I think she may have started to shake from the effort (although that part could have been my imagination since the ride was shaking us all over the place anyway).

At this point I started to scream and wave the one arm that wasn't being gnawed on by my terrified sister. The ride operator looked at me for just a moment with a quizzical expression, but must have decided that I was enjoying the ride because he just looked away. Everyone on the ride was screaming and waving their arms, so what I was doing wasn't out of the ordinary.

I continued to scream and Alicia continued to bite my arm until we finally got the ride operator's attention again. He must have noticed Alicia's awkward head angle, because his face turned to horror and he quickly shut the ride down. The other people on the ride started to boo because they didn't know why the ride was cut short. Alicia released her hold on my arm and we both stepped off the ride. We were white-faced and wobbly-legged from leftover adrenaline and terror, and the boos were soon directed at us as people realized we were the reason why the ride had stopped early.

We didn't ride any more carnival rides that day. In fact, we never went to a carnival together again, because some experiences are simply not worth reliving. Don't hate me for sharing this one Alicia. :)


P.S. Alicia is no longer afraid of rides. However, I do have a sequel to this story that I will have to add next week (The White Roller Coaster ride at Lagoon).