Sleep is Entirely Overrated...

...Or at least that's what I'm telling myself these days.

For the past several days, I have awakened on the half hour every hour after midnight. No matter what I do prior to going to bed, I can't seem to stay asleep for more than an hour at a time.

Last night was no different. Rather, maybe it was - because I just couldn't sleep, period.

First it was Baby Girl - who has already commenced to get me to lie in bed and worry. Last night it was about her sluggish, sporadically-spaced movements (or lack of them). I even sent Himself out to buy Orange Juice at oh-dark-thirty (yes, on a Sunday), to kick-start her into hyperactive mode. (Side note: this is the FIRST time the entire pregancy where I have sent Himself to buy ANYTHING that I "must have now," so he has got off rather easily).

Himself returned with the OJ, and I retired with a book (on my left side, of course). Baby Girl, who had been drugged the night before with a Tylenol PM and worn out due to my excessive nesting, was having nothing of it. She stubbornly refused to do anything more than make her presence known with a few hiccups and two well-placed, painful kicks in the ribs.

Second, I could not get comfortable, no matter how many pillows, body parts belonging to Himself or new positions I tried. It didn't help matters when Himself, in a stupor, rolled over almost on top of me, prompting me to a state of full alert in under two seconds, at which point I muttered, "You're squishing the baby." Himself muttered something about me taking up all the bed, rolled back over and went back to sleep.

I tossed and turned (as well as one can toss and turn when feeling like a beached whale). About 3:30 a.m., I got up. I thought I should put the OJ in the fridge. Unfortunately, I had failed to put the lid on tight. I got to the end of the bed before disaster struck, dispensing OJ onto the carpet. I groaned. I got some water and a beach towel (the only thing I could find with no lights) and sat on the floor, attempting to mop up the sticky wet stain I couldn't even see. Himself slept grandly on. Finally, after the towel would absorb no more, I rattled around the Hobbit Hole, trying to decide what to do.

The darn fans made such a racket, I wanted to scream. The living room, bathroom and kitchen were out of the question. There is no comfortable furniture in Baby Girl's room (well, the rocker is comfortable, but it is full of books that need shelving) or the den, so reading was out. Finally, I settled on scrapbooking. I had set up shop yesterday afternoon when Himself and I were hiding out from the fans, so I switched on the lamp and began a two-hour scrapbooking session.

At 5:30, I decided I should try and get some sleep. I vetoed any thoughts of getting up at 6 a.m. to exercise, so I gleefully shut off the alarm and tried to sleep. Himself wiggled over to hold me. Baby Girl decided that now was a good time to reassure Mom that she was indeed alive and well in her cramped quarters. For a minute, the fans sounded a little like over zealous white noise.

I slept for an hour and ten minutes. A record!