Concerning Desmond
Back in February of last year, Alan's parents and his brother Christopher came up to take us to the Georgia Aquarium. It was a great day. At the aquarium gift shop, Alan bought me this darling little stuffed dolphin. At first I wasn't sure if he was a dolphin or a happy little shark, but we examined him and realized his tail fin would be 90˚ different if he were a shark. I named him Desmond, because I like alliterative names. Desmond the Dolphin. I sleep with him tucked under my chin, clutched in my arms.
Yes, I realize that I'm thirty-lots and just admitted to sleeping with a stuffed animal. Pre-Alan, I slept with a giant stuffed Spongebob. Not only that, I have a spare Spongebob for overnighters, like going to my parents' for Christmas: a domestic Spongebob and a travel Spongebob. That way, if I should happen to (horrors!) forget Spongebob at my parents' or something, I have a spare so I can sleep at night until I retrieve him. Well, Alan didn't like this arrangement because it was a BIG Spongebob, about two feet high, and he said there wasn't room in bed for all three of us. Some miserable nights ensued with me trying to substitute bits of my fiance for my security toy, and said fiance grumbling, "Give me back my arm!", "Leggo my elbow!", "OW! My nose!" and things like that. So when he bought me Desmond, I thought I'd sleep with him (Desmond, I mean. I was already sleeping with Alan). I figured the dolphin was little and I could have my needed clutch-toy without displacing my fiance.
Generally, this has worked out fine for over a year. Desmond sits in the space between our stacks of pillows when not in use, I snuggle with him and leave Alan's limbs alone so he can be free to taz about - when he's restless, he's REALLY restless, and I refer to this as "tazzing", the movement being reminiscent of Taz the Tasmanian Devil. If I wake up in the night to, say, go to the bathroom, there is no problem: when I return to bed, I realign my pillows, straighten the sheets and blankets, quietly relocate Desmond and am soon re-ensconced in blissful slumber.
Evidently the problem arises when I'm not fully awake; I'm awake enough to change positions or rearrange blankets, but not at all lucid. At times like these, if I cannot locate Desmond apparently I become quite agitated. I toss the entire bed, poke Alan unmercifully and flail about in distress until my dolphin is located. I was once startled into full wakefulness by Alan shoving Desmond at me and saying, "Here's your damn dolphin! Go back to sleep!" I later learned that this was after I'd pinched him, poked him, and grabbed at him all down his right side, repeatedly, in vain search of my wayward plushie.
Many is the time that poor Alan is awakend by my whimpering and groping, knowing that all it takes to soothe me back to sleep is my precious dolphin Desmond. I have no memory of this but I heard about it the next morning: one eventful night I went from a deep sleep to bolting upright in bed, tearing all the covers off of us both in the process. I then searched the bed thoroughly and furiously, finally getting up and stomping around the floor until I found Desmond, where he'd fallen by my bedside. Alan was asking me what was wrong, what was going on, what my problem was - by this time, I'd recovered Desmond so I got back into bed, pulled up the covers and was asleep scant seconds after reporting, "Had to get Desmond. He fell overboard."
Back in February of last year, Alan's parents and his brother Christopher came up to take us to the Georgia Aquarium. It was a great day. At the aquarium gift shop, Alan bought me this darling little stuffed dolphin. At first I wasn't sure if he was a dolphin or a happy little shark, but we examined him and realized his tail fin would be 90˚ different if he were a shark. I named him Desmond, because I like alliterative names. Desmond the Dolphin. I sleep with him tucked under my chin, clutched in my arms.
Yes, I realize that I'm thirty-lots and just admitted to sleeping with a stuffed animal. Pre-Alan, I slept with a giant stuffed Spongebob. Not only that, I have a spare Spongebob for overnighters, like going to my parents' for Christmas: a domestic Spongebob and a travel Spongebob. That way, if I should happen to (horrors!) forget Spongebob at my parents' or something, I have a spare so I can sleep at night until I retrieve him. Well, Alan didn't like this arrangement because it was a BIG Spongebob, about two feet high, and he said there wasn't room in bed for all three of us. Some miserable nights ensued with me trying to substitute bits of my fiance for my security toy, and said fiance grumbling, "Give me back my arm!", "Leggo my elbow!", "OW! My nose!" and things like that. So when he bought me Desmond, I thought I'd sleep with him (Desmond, I mean. I was already sleeping with Alan). I figured the dolphin was little and I could have my needed clutch-toy without displacing my fiance.
Generally, this has worked out fine for over a year. Desmond sits in the space between our stacks of pillows when not in use, I snuggle with him and leave Alan's limbs alone so he can be free to taz about - when he's restless, he's REALLY restless, and I refer to this as "tazzing", the movement being reminiscent of Taz the Tasmanian Devil. If I wake up in the night to, say, go to the bathroom, there is no problem: when I return to bed, I realign my pillows, straighten the sheets and blankets, quietly relocate Desmond and am soon re-ensconced in blissful slumber.
Evidently the problem arises when I'm not fully awake; I'm awake enough to change positions or rearrange blankets, but not at all lucid. At times like these, if I cannot locate Desmond apparently I become quite agitated. I toss the entire bed, poke Alan unmercifully and flail about in distress until my dolphin is located. I was once startled into full wakefulness by Alan shoving Desmond at me and saying, "Here's your damn dolphin! Go back to sleep!" I later learned that this was after I'd pinched him, poked him, and grabbed at him all down his right side, repeatedly, in vain search of my wayward plushie.
Many is the time that poor Alan is awakend by my whimpering and groping, knowing that all it takes to soothe me back to sleep is my precious dolphin Desmond. I have no memory of this but I heard about it the next morning: one eventful night I went from a deep sleep to bolting upright in bed, tearing all the covers off of us both in the process. I then searched the bed thoroughly and furiously, finally getting up and stomping around the floor until I found Desmond, where he'd fallen by my bedside. Alan was asking me what was wrong, what was going on, what my problem was - by this time, I'd recovered Desmond so I got back into bed, pulled up the covers and was asleep scant seconds after reporting, "Had to get Desmond. He fell overboard."
6 Comments:
At least once a week I have to find that dolphin and put him in her arms so I can get back to sleep. Otherwise she starts flailing about looking for him. He usually ends up near my knees, for some reason. This almost always happens after she's gone to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and has come back to bed. At first I would put Desmond between our pillows, where he stays during the day, but she never checked there, preferring to poke me in the side or back in her quest to find him. Now I wait until she gets back into bed, and stuff Desmond into her arms as soon as she lays down. That calms her down pretty quickly, and we both get back to sleep with a minimum of flailing and poking.
By
Alan Bowman, at 9:44 PM
Does he own a barrel in the marketplace?
-Bo
By
Anonymous, at 10:09 PM
Yes! And he takes a trolley to the jewelry store and in the evening he still sings it with the band!
By
Helly, at 10:23 PM
Alan, at least you don't have to stumble to the microwave to heat the bottle. ;)
When I was little, I once tried to sleep with a beloved doll, but it drove me crazy and I tossed her overboard. She was allowed to remain on the bed during the daytime only. I move too much when I sleep to hang on to anything.
I had a friend who had to sleep with something with a name. I found out later that it was just a certain pillowcase.
By
Anonymous, at 3:33 AM
Hi, came by from Flippy's to see Finnovar and his sushi. This is LOL! I slept with a bed full of stuffed animals until college and had to reduce the load to a discrete 2 or 3. Then Hubby replaced those and when we stopped sleeping romantically tangled, I was over it. Now our sweet cat Victor cuddles under the blankets between us, begging me for belly rubs and kneading his claws into Hubby. If I squeeze too hard, he moves to the foot of the bed.
By
lambj, at 11:33 AM
Thanks for stopping by! I like reading about the adventures of Bonnie & Victor, too!
By
Helly, at 7:40 PM
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