Category: Uncategorized

…I wonder how long the insomnia will continue?

Secretly, very secretly, I suspect I am lazy. Currently, I am 100% employment-free, and this fact only underscores my suspicions. Oh, I have lots of excuses and in emergency situations have been known to account for my time in semi-credible terms, but deep down, I know the truth. I love having nothing to do.

Under normal circumstances, this would be a source of tension in a marriage. Somehow, though, I lucked out. Not only was Abe completely supportive when I told him last spring that I needed to leave my job (it did help that I got paid through the summer–thank-you, Chicago Public Schools!) but he continues to be almost alarmingly angelic about the current situation.

On his own workday, he will often get up at 4:15 and return home approximately 12 hours later. (Sometimes, as on Monday, that number stretches up to 15 or 16.) He works hard. Really hard. And when he comes home, his work continues as I regale him with tales from the pregnancy front. My head hurts, my back went out, we’re out of toilet paper (sorry, the baby’s still sitting on my bladder) and oh, by the way, even though I napped three times I’m still exhausted so what do you think about ordering pizza tonight? And in return I get hugs, sympathy, and affirmative answers to all of my unreasonable requests. It is sick.

The other day we were in the car and I was moaning about how much I wanted Dairy Queen, and Abe turned to me and said, “You know, your life is really hard.” I stopped moaning and eyed him cautiously. Was he finally going to call me out? I was almost wishing he would when he dashed my nascent hopes by saying–in all earnestness–“No, I mean, think about it. You are a die hard sweets fanatic and foodie who is desperately trying to go vegan. I never thought about it before, but your life is one continuously painful battleground!” He looked at me with admiration gleaming in his big eyes and said, “I just want you to know how much I love you.”

Uhm. Really? I stay at home all day napping and eating while you go out and work twice as hard to pay back my school loans, and that’s what you have to say to me?

That’s when I decided I need to get a job. But here’s the problem. I don’t want a real job. (RE: first paragraph on laziness.) When my mom asked what jobs sound fun to me, here’s the list I came up with: greeter at professional functions, grocery store cashier, mattress tester, organic farm hand, and–this one’s slightly better–piano teacher. At the end of the day, all I really want is to become is a better wife than I currently am and, eventually, be a good stay-at-home mom who bakes awesome vegan cookies. But in the interim between now and when baby is born, I should probably do something more with my life than eat and sleep. Wow, that sounds intimidating. Maybe I should go take a nap.

I have always considered myself a pretty seasoned and skilled cuddler. My mother always told me that when I was a baby, I was only happy when someone was holding me and that I loved snuggling. I spent the rest of my childhood (and beyond) honing my cuddling skills, and I have to admit, I thought I was a pretty decent cuddler. That is, until I met Abe.

Abe is, quite possibly, the world champion of cuddling. Sometimes I will wake up to discover that I have been cuddled almost out of bed; a precarious couple of centimeters is all that stands between me and a vertiginous drop to the floor. Before my belly started to become a serious bump, it was a lot easier for me to turn over and snuggle my way back a more secure position on the bed. However, my ever-growing middle–and the back pain that accompanies it–prevents me from currently employing this counter strategy. So I need to get creative.

Take this past night, for example. I woke up at 3:45 am (oh, and did I mention pregnancy has turned me into an insomniac?), unable to breathe from congestion (another perk of pregnancy. Who knew?). After lying wide-eyed and breathless for several minutes, I heaved myself out of bed and dragged myself to the kitchen, where I self-doctored via the simultaneous consumption of apples, cookies, and an article about hazelnuts in Martha Stewart Living. Feeling slightly better about my life, I wandered back to bed.

It was then that I discovered Abe, who had already cuddled me to the edge of the bed prior to my departure, had sprawled all the way to the edge of my side of the bed. I had approximately 3 inches left open for my ample form. It was time to employ the only working instrument at my disposal–my butt. This part of my figure seems determined to steal thunder from my growing belly, and has recently expanded for no reason other than purely competitive purposes.

Although this fact has previously caused me many a moment of despair, last night I was grateful. As I scooched my way into bed, I used my butt to carve out just enough space to lie on my side. And then, I waited. Every time Abe so much as twitched a muscle, I used my butt to maneuver myself into newly-freed bed real estate. By the time twenty minutes had elapsed, I had stolen enough property to make a comfortable 360 degree turn. I did a couple rotisserie-chicken like moves to revel in my newly butt-created space, but the joy soon wore off when I realized I was still awake (it was now 5:20am) and more congested than ever.

I weighed my options. Give up my new territory for another trip to the kitchen, or lie there staring at the ceiling contemplating the geometric patterns of moonlight on our ceiling. Glumly, I rolled out of bed a second time and made my way to the  kitchen.

It is now almost 7am. I am exhausted and congested, but awake. I have occupied myself with one bowl of barley-kale soup, five Martha Stewart articles, two bathroom trips, and one tooth-flossing session (to ward off pregnancy induced teeth rot). But the night’s accomplishment that makes me most proud? I type this entry from the very center of the bed. Thank-you, butt, from the bottom of my thankful belly.