Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep Part 2

My husband once worked second shift. I found it hard to fall asleep until he was home safe and sound and often got up during the night to use the restroom just to make sure I could see his car outside.

He didn't necessarily come straight to bed when he got home, he might work on his car, wash his car or sit and watch tv for a couple of hours before winding down for bed. One night, I had a really hard time falling asleep. I just lied on my back staring at the ceiling, hoping to hear his car coming up the road...and I finally did. He pulled into the drive way and I heard his car door close. I never heard him enter the house. I got worried. I imagined someone out there beating him, robbing him, or worse so JUMPED out of bed to go SAVE my husband from danger.

I gently open the back door.
Me: "Chad?"
No answer.
Me: (louder) "Chad?"
Him: (sounding very distant) "Yeah."
Me: (not sure I heard him) "Chad?"
Him: (still distant) "Yeah?"
Me: (trying to get a location on him-I yell louder) "Chad!!"
Him: "I'm in the bed!!"

The cold air from outside woke me and I realize he'd been inside, eaten dinner, showered and already made it to bed...while I had fallen asleep waiting...

I have a blogger friend Rachel who is famous for breaking a nose while sleep walking. Click here to read her very funny interesting story. 

Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

I have a hidden talent. I do lots of things while unaware I catch up on some ZZZZZZZs.

I'm coming clean here today because last night I ALMOST answered a teacher's call while I was asleep. Sure it was only 9:30 but I'd already been asleep for over an hour. I actually walked into the living room to retrieve this call when apparently my brain heard the phone ringing, it just forgot to wake up. Luckily all I did was pick up the phone without answering and stare at the caller ID. Unfortunately, I've actually answered some calls while dozing! Here is how my last conversation went as I spoke on the phone to someone while asleep.

Me: "Hello"
Brother-in-law: "Is Chad there?"
Me: (in a very LOUD and high pitched voice) "Is Chad there?"
Brother-in-law:(giggling-thinking I'm making fun of him) "Yeah, is Chad there?"
Me: (remaining LOUD and high pitched) "Is Chad there?"
Brother-in-law: (realizing I'm insane) "Is he at the cabin?"
Me: (remaining Loud and high pitched) "Is he at the cabin?"
Brother-in-law: (scared of me now) "Oh, ok...well I'll talk to you later."
Me: (still insane) "Is he at the cabin?"

I hung the phone up and my husband's sweet little sleepy voice wakes me when he questions my conversation. He has since revoked my phone-by-the-bed privileges and we no longer have the ringer turned on in our room. I'm fully aware of what has happened IF someone wakes me, but otherwise, it all becomes a 4-D dream I'll not even realize I've participated in.

So how did I wake up last night? When the phone quit ringing, I put it back down, and went to crawl back into bed. Instead of trying to get back in on my side of the bed, I thought it would be best to creep up the middle.? I placed one hand around my husband's bare ankle. It wasn't so much the contact with bare skin that woke me, it was the way he jumped about four feet. His entire body flew up as if he were Regan from The Exorcist...and THAT is what woke me up!

Because I'm Pimpin'

I slide into the driver seat of the hot little family sedan I drive. It's cloudy outside but I slip on a pair of large lensed shades with fake diamonds on the side, because I'm pimpin'. I thump my way through the car line and soon I'm one kid down, the other still in tow.

As we make our way down that long road to the urban land, he's working hard on customizing his toy vehicles, while I'm pimpin'. I think to myself, I can't wait til he figures out how hydraulics work, then it's ON !!

I have one hand on the wheel, the other on my right leg so I can tap as needed with the music. It doesn't take long for me to run through Lady GaGa, Adele, and Miranda Lambert...all three of which sound EXACTLY like ME. I switch to one of my favorite hip hop stations where Ludacris is already slangin' some rhymes...and I join him. Before you know it, I'm bouncin' around singing My Chick Bad, My Chick Hood and for a second, I actually think I'm Ludacris, because I'm pimpin'. Is that normal? Most people don't know I bust domes and sit on chromes with some of the baddest rappers around! I lose a small sense of reality as we bump our way into Birmingham. My kid has ignored me the whole hour and a half as he's been in deep construction with his latest invention.

We finish our errands soon and head all the way back towards home and I slowly get back into character. With my son by my side, I beat my right leg til it throbbed so I then reached over and began slapping his leg to give mine a rest. The music was good and I had to keep with the beat somehow. The more he tried to convince me that I DO NOT SOUND LIKE BEYONCE, the more I tried to sound like Beyonce "sucks to be you right now"...

I tried a little Ram Jam "Black Betty", I tried REO Speedwagon, AC/DC and Joe Walsh, even the Zac Brown Band and they all ended the same...a pimpin' white mom who thinks she's cool with oversized shades in a car full of toys and booster seats...ugh, if I only had those hydraulics!!

...coming soon to a car near you! And yes, I have been busted by friends in Birmingham before who pulled up beside me during one of my performances, called me on the phone, and we sat there laughing at a red light...

Who is the bigger redneck

Just to confirm my desires to be a full blown redneck through and through...I issued a challenge to my husband as we walked around the yard, enjoying the various fruits we grew this year. We grew watermelon, grapes, pears, apples, peaches, and muscadines.

As I watched my husband walk around with his CATerpillar cap, his dirty old boots and camo pants, I began to wonder...how does someone actually earn the title "Redneck". Living in the country, it's an elite club that we have only borderline qualities as our qualifications to join. I felt a strong need to step over that fine line of being country, to being redneck.

I've changed my shirt in public at a football game with only a tank top protecting my flesh but you know, when in Rome...

I've shouted double negatives in public on accident and no one even noticed...

My idea of appetizers for parties is Chex mix and salted peanuts, but still something was holding us back from that real label we both desired...REDNECK.

I thought as we both crammed muscadines into our mouths as if they were the absolutes best thing on Earth...which we all know they are...I think I've got it...and I spoke

"Hey!" as we tend to call people, animals, anything alive instead of using proper salutations others may use outside of the rural plantations. Hey is actually polite here. "Wanna see who can spit their seed the farthest?" He looked me up and down as if I didn't have a chance and replied, "You'll lose, this is a man's competition!"

I rolled the seed up to the front of my tongue as we now stood side by side and shot it with every ounce of power I had. He chuckled at my five feet shot and threatened me with a squint of the eye. He rolled the seed around several times in his mouth until he found the proper launching spot. He glanced one last time as if to say, this is how it's done. I watched as his cheeks sunk in as he breathed deep and he blew. The seed when high and far and when it landed, I was defeated. A man's competition. But I won after all, I had just been inducted into the Redneck Hall of Fame. Such a proud day for the Blakelys.