Stuff that crosses my mind at 4:00 in the morning:
- Murderers obviously
- Unintentionally natural childbirth
- Leftover spaghetti and poppyseed bread
I’m so hungry I could cry.
So how about that natural childbirth, huh? Unless I’m stuck on the highway because I suddenly experienced transitional labor and I crashed my car while trying to drive myself to the safety of an epidural, it’s not happening. But I really am scared–what if? What if? What if I go into labor suddenly and violently and we’ve moved to our new house where the hospital is a solid 45-50 minutes away? I wouldn’t even know how to handle myself. I’d forget how to breathe. I’d forget how to speak. I can’t even stub my toe without crying uncontrollably. And Caleb?
I’m kidding you guys. He’d be great under pressure. I’m pretty sure he could deliver a baby blindfolded and tied to a chair. Although I’m not sure where the blindfold came from, and the chair would probably hurt coming out. Ha! Get it?
Bear with me. It’s 4 a.m.
I have not been sleeping well. If it’s not Braxton Hicks kicking my butt, then it’s Merrick kicking my face. He’s been consistently ninja-creeping his way into my bed under the cover of night ever since Mia got her own room. And while there’s nothing sweeter than feeling his soft little hands pat my cheek as he drifts back off to sleep, I’m not a fan of the precarious position I find myself in less than one hour later: teetering on the outer rim of the bed space, my 6-month pregnant belly confined to a single foot of mattress.
Not awesome. But at least I have a comfortable couch that allows me to squeeze in a generous 30 more minutes of sleep before the dogs start their morning ritual of scratching, farting, and whining. But they’d protect me from murderers, and that’s the important thing. Well, they’d alert me to intruders anyway. By wagging their tails really loudly.
Got some great advice about the rodent issue that we may or may not have in the near future: Rat terriers! Apparently they kill rats–who knew? This is awesome news because I love dogs. Not sure about small dogs, but I’d be willing to try it because the only thing I hate more than a psychotic yappy little canine terrorist is a mouse, as evidenced here and here.
No more Mr. Nice Toni when it comes to these creatures. No more catch and release. I’m bringing it and they don’t even know it. I’m coming for blood like the farmer’s wife.