I don't want to be awake right now. I want to be under a sheet with the ceiling fan twirling overhead, the curtains drawn to shut out the glaring light. Instead here I sit, already sweating in this frickin' hot den, while Addy cuddles Jim's cell phone in one hand and her childproof bottle of children's cold medicine in the other and watches Between The Lions. I am blurry and clammy, and vaguely worried about how the scale this morning said I had LOST five pounds since the last time I got on, even though I ate two dinners and two snacks throughout the course of last night. Intrauterine growth restriction? I wonder. Or just water weight?
Last night was... Endless. Just up and down and up and down and up and down with Addy about every three hours. I feel like I've had a string of restless naps, but nothing even approaching a good night's sleep. It was made worse by the fact that we've all had colds around here, and Jim and I had taken, respectively, Nyquil and Benadryl before bed. So by the time Addy started in on her first round of wailing at her door, we were both groggy and half-coherent. She too had had her dose of medicine, but it apparently had the opposite effect on her that it did on us. During one stretch of awakeness, lasting from three thirty to six thirty, I was wondering if I should just forget about sleep altogether. I'm glad I didn't, since Addy did not sleep in forever like I anticipated, but woke up at nine, only an hour later than usual. I needed those last few hours.
I can't help feeling grumpy that Jim is still in bed, sleeping off the night's misery, while I am up changing diapers and toasting waffles, though. I know he is sicker than I am, quite a bit, but I am pregnant. Why am I always the one who wakes up to the kid? We don't even need a baby monitor; I appear to have one in my brain that alerts me the second my child's eyes open. It's just one of the perks of HIS job- he can call in sick and actually lie around and be sick and generally unbothered. This possibility does not really exist for the stay-at-home parent.
Anyways... Let's wrap up with a positive note, shall we? Last night, the therapy pool in which my prenatal aerobics class is usually held was closed for "chemical treatment," which I think means some kid pooped in it and messed up the Ph balance. So we had to have our class in the big pool with another group. Their class was a lot more high impact than we were used to- at first it was hard to keep up, but then it felt great. I was SO hungry afterwards (thus the second dinner.) But it felt great to be in the cold water, getting a workout without sweating. So I'll just keep thinking about that invigorated sensation today, when my forehead and upper lip are getting damp just from walking around the house, and when I feel hot and irritable and tired and start yelling excessively at the dog just to have someone to vent at.