Darth Vader and The Bedtime Cricket

My husband wears a sleep apnea mask at night. For those who don’t know, it’s basically a tiny jet engine strapped to his face. When he turns his head toward me, the air coming out of that mask is so strong it blows my hair, me, and occasionally my will to sleep right off the bed.

One night, we were having a heated debate, voices already raised, and he put the mask on mid-argument. He was talking so fast and so angrily through that mask, I couldn’t even focus on what he was saying. All I could think was: “Luke… I am your father.”

Yes. Darth Vader, blowing my hair into my mouth while we were arguing. I was trying so hard not to laugh, and it completely derailed the argument. I suppose it’s better than the alternative: the snoring that could knock down walls.

For years, he would hold his breath mid-snore, and I’d lie there, waiting for him to breathe again… silently judging, praying for mercy. And then there’s his nightly ritual I call the cricket thing. He rubs his legs back and forth to warm his legs, sort of like a cricket, and the entire mattress shakes. My head bounces back and forth on the pillow like I’m on a roller coaster… every single night.

I swear the sheets have worn thin in those spots, so after every wash I flip them just to get a fresh, unbattered side. So now, bedtime is its own adventure. Darth Vader air blasts, cricket leg massages, bouncing pillows, and the occasional hair dryer, chaos that somehow ends with me laughing in the dark.

Honestly? My sweet little cricket is worth every blasted pillow, every hair on my face, and every sheet I have to flip. From Darth Vader to cricket, bedtime with him is pure chaos… and I wouldn’t have it any other way!