Trapped

For some reason the little one cooking inside me favors my right ribs. Interestingly, Liesel loved lodging herself in my left ribs. With this one, I can't lay on my right side for very long because my ribs go from a tad uncomfortable to slightly painful to sharply painful as this baby just nudges herself further and further in there. Laying on my left side gets old though. Every now and again I'm able to prop pillows around my belly in such a way that I can comfortably lay on my right side but it's very, very, VERY rare. It's a welcomed relief when it happens though.

Last night was one of those times and I was blissfully sleeping. Much to my dismay, Brent rolled over to face me and let out a huge breath. Oh my, it was like smelling the inside of a rotting, dead goat. Moving takes an act of Congress for me so there I was, with my sweet husband, foul breath and the prospect of returning to my left side for the night. I tried nudging him and he obliged... for two minutes, he turned his head to the wall. Then turned his head towards me again and breathed a HUGE sigh. Awash in empty stomach stench, I just wanted to cry. Now I know how Captain Jack Sparrow felt when he faced the Kraken in At World's End. I had no other option but to make a 3-point turn back to my left side and drift back to sleep.

My dreams were beyond bizarre. I dreamed I went to a pawn shop and asked for a cheeseburger. This is strange for a couple of reasons: 1- One of my New Year's Resolutions is to give up fast food for the year. I barely eat any as it is, I've never been that fond of it and I always regret it when I do. 2- I've never actually been to a pawn shop but there I was arguing with the guy behind the counter that they had a cheeseburger and he just wasn't giving it to me. 3- When he insisted he didn't have one I told him I was just sure someone had pawned a partially eaten cheeseburger and I wanted it. WHY would I want that? Thankfully, I woke up at this point.

My undergraduate degree was in Psych and I made a very little foray into dream analysis but for the life of me I don't get this one. Suggestions? When I told Brent about what happened he vowed he was going to start sleeping on the guest bed because he feels too guilty taking any bit of sleep away from me. Awwwwe! He's so sweet!!!

Pillow Talk

Sleep is becoming a rare commodity these days. First there's the constant bathroom breaks in the middle of the night. Secondly there's my loving spouse. For the most part, sleeping with Brent is a dream. He's like a furnace and all it takes to raise my core body temperature is to scoot over a bit and partake of the wonderful warmth. He's a cuddle bunny so I'll wake up in the morning in an embrace and bless his heart, he's even learned to steer clear of my general bladder area when wrapping his arms around me. His one desire is to have a thin sheet covering him so the quilt is left entirely to me. Most of the times it's a dream. There are however, the times when he rolls on his back and starts snoring. It's like sleeping with a Mac truck. One particularly sleepless night I nudged him to roll over so I could get some much-needed rest.

"Brent"

"Uhmphh?

"You're snoring."

"Really? I can't hear anything."

I have to admit I didn't know quite how to respond. Well, no you can't hear anything because you're asleep. Unlike... ME. I guess he took the hint because he rolled over. When I mentioned it a couple of days later he laughed heartily at his own humor. Ahhh married life. It's the shiz.

David Copperfield and Cinnamon Rolls

I had a dream the other night David Copperfield asked me on a date. Ever since I was 8 and he did a magic routine to Bonnie Tyler's "Holding Out For a Hero" I've been smitten. He was going to make the Brooklyn Bridge dissappear for me. Granted that's not as cool as when he flew (No strings attached! No camera tricks!) and carried Claudia Schiffer in his arms out the window (she never understood him). Still, he wanted to do MAGIC for ME!!! I didn't stop to think about what a missing bridge would do to midtown traffic in NYC. I did wake up though.

Brent's a pretty heavy sleeper. Case in point: I recently thought it would be a good idea for him to get up and pee every time I did. Then he could claim true sympathy pains for this pregnancy. The first 3 AM bladder wake up call went something like this:

"Brent?"

"Uhmhphh??"

"I have to pee."

"Uhmhphh."

"That means you're supposed to pee too."

"Uhmhphh."

My bladder couldn't wait any longer so I blindly made my way to the toilet and tried to catch a few more hours of sleep. So it's understandable why I'd think I could get away with THIS conversation.

"Brent?"

"Uhmhphh??"

"David Copperfield asked me on a date, can I go?"

"Why does it have to be a date?"

"Brent, he's going to make the Brooklyn Bridge dissappear for me!"

"I don't think so."

Crap. I was denied. Like I said, he's a pretty heavy sleeper so I tried again the next morning.

"So I get to go on a dream date with David Copperfield!"

"Huh?"

*puppy dog eyes* "Last night you SAID I could!!!"

"No I didn't!"

Double crap. So we talked it over and he said I could go on a date with David Copperfield ONLY if we double and he brings Mandy Moore. Crap, crap, crap. David hasn't come back to me, but I have been dreaming about cinnamon rolls which I NEVER eat. Cinnabons taste like lard covered in sugar to me. Not that I don't like lard and sugar, but at least mask it a little more. Anyway, sweet dreams are made of these...

In an unrelated note, there was a woman playing Ashokan Farewell on her violin when I got off the subway. I rushed along with every other hurried commuter when suddenly the soaring notes filled the dingy T-stop. I get intensely nostalgic for my sisters whenever I hear it. Today it was particularly apropos since Whitney went into the MTC. She called to say goodbye so it was truly a day of farewells. It's kind of funny that the song reminds me of them. True they can all play it, but I'm pretty sure they all hate it too.