Home Surgery

When Peanut was born in January, I discovered, by accident, that there was in fact a legitimate reason whereby I could kill a man and hopefully, be acquitted on the grounds of 'Fair Enough'.
I remember that when the Ratbag was but a wee babe, Mr Mangroves would wake up in case I needed something every time the baby was at the midnight milkbar. I found this very annoying after a while, and told him to roll over and go back to sleep. I was very possessive of my time with the baby, being a bit insane and all. Since then, Mr Mangroves and I have had an understanding that as he was having to get up for work and as I was breastfeeding, it would be his privilege to not have to come to full wakefulness any time that she awoke, and in return, I would get to whinge and carry-on about how tired I was, and to have a teary at any time and with but a moment's notice. This worked for us with the Ratbag as well, and to be honest, I loved getting up to feed anyway, even though I was a zombie for the first 3 months. I took it on the chin, and I will always have fond memories of those times.

Peanut vs Pumpkin

Anyhoo, I digress. After Peanut was born, I discovered that even though I was dog-tired, I couldn't just pop off back to noddy land without any trouble. I discovered that it was not uncommon for me to lie awake in bed and basically wait it out for the next feed. The result was that not only was I walking with the dead, I was also dangerous on the road and not to be trusted with anything more complex than a fork. I realised things had to change, and looked desperately for an answer as to why I couldn't get back to sleep in between feeds.
And then it came to me.


Mr Mangroves' snoring wasn't just snoring. It was more like a giant walrus in heat, calling out for a mate. A swamp monster from the black lagoon, looking for a mate. Or like a rusty chainsaw, looking for a mate. Or like a plane taking off, looking for... you get the point.

The Constant Gardener

Interspersed with the loudest snoring I ever heard, was the distinct sound of NOT BREATHING, scientifically known as sleep apnoea. He would actually cease to breathe for anywhere up to 20 seconds, and then let rip a monster snore as his lungs faught for air. Fascinated by my discovery, I listened for a few nights, and noted several types of snores, and how the different sleeping positions affected them. He snored on his back, on his side, on his front and whether he was sleeping in bed or on the couch didn't make any difference (that blew my simple fix out of the water). My research would have no doubt continued until I drove my car into a power pole, or served molten plastic straws for dinner, if it wasn't for the video camera. One night, I decided to tape him.


Upon viewing the 5 minute tape, Mr Mangroves became quite alarmed. We've both always known that he snores, but somehow, over the years, I'd become so used to it, I didn't hear it anymore. Over those years, it has steadily gotten so bad, that I'm surprised his head hasn't caved in from the resonance stress. I realised that I always tried to get to bed first, so I would be asleep by the time the snorefest began. But now this wasn't possible, because I was breastfeeding and up all bloody night anyway. He agreed that something would have to be done, and before he woke up with a knife in the eyeball.

And so, TA TAAAA ! Presenting, the snorkel. Or, the CPAP machine, whichever you like. I prefer snorkel. The Ratbag calls it Daddy's Mask, and has become quite obsessed with it. No doubt, to him it looks more ilke this.

And so, he tried the snorkel. I can honestly say that it made a huge difference. It has actually stopped his snoring. Now, the only thing that I have to do, is to get him to KEEP WEARING IT, which he bloody well won't. It's uncomfortable. He can't get any sleep with it on. It slips off his face. THe alarms go off all the time. . blah blah blah, whinge, whine, bitch. I think we have to have a serious talk, because as far as I'm concerned, the only other option is surgery, and if he won't have it done, perhaps, one day, he will wake up with a knife in the eyeball, but only because I needed somewhere to rest it after performing said surgery.