That Time I Nearly Died From Deep Breathing

Well, we have merged back into the real world after two weeks of Pajama Bliss, and it’s been nothing but FULL STEAM AHEAD around here.  I don’t know how it happened, but this seems to be the Week of Better Health around here, as I somehow managed to book eye doctor appointments and orthodontist appointments and haircut appointments for everyone, all week long.  In other words, we’ve been scrambling around like a cat being pulled by her tail on the hardwood floor, who is fighting to grab an area rug with her claws as she goes by, just to get from one event to the next.

And then, on top of our very busy week, Thing 2 found, by a happy accident, a video on You Tube that’s all about combines harvesting wheat, but it’s set to Steve Earl’s song, Copperhead Road.  That’s the ONLY video he has wanted to be played on the iPad today, which… you know… FINE AND ALL, but it’s not a video that is easily FINDABLE.  As in, you can’t just type in COMBINES + COPPERHEAD ROAD in the search bar and have it magically appear.  It’s an obscure little home video that successfully hides from me, every time I have a two-year-old hopping mad and breathing down my neck, because FIND MY NEW FAVORITE VIDEO NOW BEFORE I UNLEASH A TANTRUM THAT MAKES CHERNOBYL LOOK SMALL.

(And I know y’all are going to ask how a toddler even knows anything about the song, Copperhead Road.  Please direct all your inquiries and / or complaints to Hubs on that one.  It’s set to play on an endless loop in the CD player in Hubs’ car, and our two-year-old now knows every last word to a song about John Lee Pettimore’s granddaddy running the weekly load of whiskey down to Knoxville in his primer-gray, big block Dodge, with the sheriff hot on his trail, while his mama cried at home.)

(Hubs usually follows this song up with a conversation with the toddler about how moonshine is still big business, because THEY MADE A REALITY SHOW ABOUT IT ON THE TV, SON!)

(If you feel led to include our family on your church’s prayer chain, then you’re probably hearing the Holy Spirit correctly.)


I just have a couple of things tonight, because… well… it has been a busy week, and because Thing 2 now has one of my curling irons (It’s cold, people!  As in, he stole it out of the drawer, and not hot off the HEATING-UP PLATFORM on the bathroom sink!), and he’s plugging it into the little trap door where the hose to the central vacuum cleaner goes.  I probably need to deal with that, before the pipes that run beneath the house, for all the dirt on our floors, end up holding a cheap, Revlon curling iron with a twisted-up cord.  I can only imagine the look that will appear on Hubs’ face if I have to tell him he needs to go fishing for THAT kind of debris in the PVC pipes.

1.  Several of my friends posted a link to an article on HOW TO FALL ASLEEP IN LESS THAN ONE MINUTE on Facebook yesterday, and I’m not going to lie… I hopped on reading that like a rat on an abandoned bag of Doritos.  It’s because I have what is commonly referred to as THE SLEEP ISSUES.  I don’t know any other human being who can wake up in the middle of the night, and then JUST BE AWAKE for the next four hours, for no real reason at all.  So believe me when I say that I was quite interested in learning the ancient secret for falling asleep in under a minute.

When I went to bed last night, I was all read-up on what I needed to do, and I was plum giddy with the excitement, because yes!  I can inhale for four seconds, hold my breath for seven seconds, and then exhale for eight seconds.  I was looking forward to the article’s prediction that I probably wouldn’t even get through the entire nineteen seconds without conking out cold and waking up refreshed to the sounds of a babbling brook and the smell of brewing coffee in the morning.

I laid right there, on my new Tempur Pedic mattress, and I sucked in four seconds’ worth of air, held my breath for seven seconds, and then I STARTED to breathe out for eight seconds, but that’s when things went suddenly awry.  Apparently, my brain decided that I’M DROWNING!  I’M DROWNING!  HOLY HOT HELL!  I’M DROWNING, AND THERE’S BEEN NO OXYGEN FOR PUSHING FIFTEEN SECONDS NOW!!!  And that’s when I ended up panting like the lifeguard had just pulled my head above the water, into the glorious sunshine and air, and ADRENALINE, ANYONE?

I remember having all kinds of breath-holding contests in swimming lessons as a child, and I don’t ever remember not being able to win them.  Obviously, a blue ribbon from the 3rd grade, when you can stay on the bottom of the pool longer than any of your friends can, doesn’t count after your fortieth birthday, because I’m here to tell you that this trick flat-out didn’t work for me.  My relief at SWEET MERCY!  I DIDN’T DROWN AFTER ALL!  FALSE ALARM! had surged enough adrenaline through my body that I could’ve lifted a Greyhound bus off a horse last night, and if you think THAT’S conducive to falling asleep in less than one minute, then I’d like to talk to you about the oceanfront property I have in Nebraska for sale.

2.  Yesterday, my PE classes did a little bowling.  Now, before you think that we have a high-tech, miniature bowling alley adjoining my gym, I’m here to tell you that I teach at a POOR private school that was built over one hundred years ago.  Our gym floor creaks in a few places, our cafeteria is still sporting tiles on the floor that were laid in the 30s, and I’ve heard tales about how a nun haunts the locker room in the basement, where my PE supply closet is, because she died in a fire some eighty-five years ago that happened at the school.  Obviously, there’s no bowling alley.

(Also?  I’ve never seen the little nun downstairs when I have to yank out hoola  hoops and beanbags and volleyballs.  I think it’s safe, especially since the stories are that she was a LOVELY little nun, who never whacked anyone’s knuckles or backside with a yardstick, because her heart was so tender for children.)

Anyway, what I do have in my gym is a place to set up some cheap, plastic bowling pins in a triangle, and then we roll basketballs at them, because YES!  Basketballs will work in a pinch when your PE budget is zero-point-zero dollars, and the one heavy, plastic bowling ball you had six years ago split in half and spilled sand particles all over the floor.

While the kids were competing against one another in bowling matches… getting strikes and spares and arguing about whose turn it was to set the fallen pins back up… one little second grade girl piped up and said, “I really hate bowling.  Especially since you don’t have the gutter guards here, like they have at the real bowling alley.  When I roll the basketball, it goes forty-miles off to one side.  Can I braid your hair instead?”

Normally, I would have said, “Um, no!  We’ll keep practicing, until we get you flinging that ball just TWELVE MILES off to one side, instead of forty,” but yesterday I simply said, “Well… sure.”  So we both sat down on the bleachers, and she began braiding my hair, over and over, practicing her newly-discovered French braiding skills.  And then a couple of her friends joined her, and then suddenly there were six of us girls clustered on the bleachers, and they were all arguing over how best to style my hair so that it looked exactly like Elsa’s.

And, people!  What a glorious thing it is just to have someone PRACTICE THEIR BRAIDING on you!  The boys kept looking at us, yelling, “It’s Sally’s turn to bowl!” and “It’s Susie’s turn to bowl!”  And I just shouted back, “Leave them alone!  They’re doing my hair like Elsa’s!  You boys just do what you’re doing… standing over there, flinging basketballs and stinking up my gym and laughing like hyenas, and LEAVE US ALONE!”

Okay.  I didn’t say that, because I’m trying to be as sweet-tempered and lovely as the supposed ghost in my locker room was.  But still!  What I learned yesterday is that Hubs and I might need to adopt a couple of girls, so that I can have some daughters to play beauty shop with at home.  And by play beauty shop, I mean I get to just sit down, while they would practice braiding my hair, because it’s almost like being at a high-end resort, and, at home, I could get a freshly-poured mug of hot chai tea to sip while I enjoyed my time in the salon chair.

As luck would have it yesterday, recess came some six minutes after my beauty appointment started, and we had to get dressed for recess in our heavy coats and mittens and snowpants and electric blankets, because it was something like 400 degrees below zero with the windchill factor.

3.  I saw THIS today…

10734059_1758681920907804_8057721741051818939_n… so I emailed it to Hubs.

Six minutes later, the incoming text on my phone said, “Hey, beautiful.  I miss you.”

So I laughed out loud (For reals!  It wasn’t even an LOL, where I just SAID that I laughed out loud and didn’t!) and responded with, “You’re such a dork.”

And some people say that romance isn’t alive after nineteen years of marriage.

And THAT, people, is all I have for you tonight.

Carry on, and y’all have a merry weekend.

2 thoughts on “That Time I Nearly Died From Deep Breathing

  1. I did not even finish reading your post. I had to stop right in the middle to leave a comment. Because LAST NIGHT I TOTALLY TRIED THAT BREATHING THING. And here’s the thing. I was a competitive swimmer for TEN years. I STILL have pretty darn good breath control. I can hold my breath for a long time. I can recite every book of the Bible (old and new testament together) in ONE breath. And I tried that dumb breathing technique and it does not work. Breath in. No problem. Hold it for seven. Fine and good but I wasn’t thinking about falling asleep I was thinking about how I was holding my breath and counting to seven. And by the release for 8 seconds part, my heart was surging and I was gasping for breath.. Whoever thought that one up is just trying to make the world go into cardiac arrest. I even repeated it several times thinking I was doing it wrong. That just led to me nearly hyperventilating and thinking about how I was much closer to actual death than sleep.

  2. NyQuil lady!
    Oh, and girls need a lot of beauty school practice before your hair is left intact. Don’t try that with a group of 4 year old girls unless you know a good wig maker.

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