You snooze, you lose

There are some rifts that stretch a marriage to its very edges, if not beyond. Illness, infidelity, financial woes—and the godforsaken snooze button. Because there are two kinds of people: snoozers and just-get-your-ass-out-of-bed-for-the-love-of-Pete people. And they really should not be married to each other.

We have struggled with this problem for many years. It waxes and wanes in severity. In the early, idyllic days (you know, pre-kids, when I was actually sleeping at night anyway) I tolerated the snoozing—which meant the alarm would go off nearly an hour before Jeff really needed to get up, and he’d proceed to hit the snooze button every 8 minutes until he reached the actual critical wake-up moment. I, of course, would be wide awake for this entire procedure, but I looked at as extra snuggle time with my sweetie (gag).

Soon after our wedding, when Jeff took a job farther away that required an earlier wake-up time, I happened to be taking yoga classes at the crack of dawn, so I just got up at or before the first alarm and left him to snooze. When I was expecting Jo, I played the “pregnant person needs sleep” card, which worked to some degree. When she was a little baby, it didn’t much matter when the alarm went off, because I was already up.

But after she started sleeping later in the morning, I lost my patience with the snooze. I was bone-tired, like any mom, and damned if I was going to be cheated out of 45 minutes or more of sleep every morning just because “It’s the only way I can wake up.” He turned down the volume, and I took catnaps in between alarms, but I’d still be jolted awake over and over again. We honestly had knock-down drag-out fights over this.

Several months ago a friend who’s a magazine editor appealed to her network for stories of petty little disagreements couples have, for an article she was working on. The idea was to pose them to a marriage counselor, who’d then reveal the underlying problem and how to solve it. Like the couple who fought over who ate the last banana = control issues!

So I sent her our dilemma. And get this: we stumped the therapist. He said, “Though they’ll have to find some way to compromise, I don’t feel too optimistic. I think she’s going to find an awful fight.”

I felt 100% vindicated, even though he didn’t provide any real advice at all. As soon as Opie is sleeping through the night (dream on, sister) my plan is to get up when Jeff’s alarm goes off, then leave the house to work out. That way he’s completely responsible for any kid needs that arise during my absence. Now that’s alarming.