Six!!! (plus a Miss M Mystery)

Or seven. (I honestly can't remember.)

That would be the number of times I visited the bathroom between 9:30 pm and 7:30 am. I have reached the funnest stage of pregnancy, in which just a well-directed twitch (to say nothing of a kick or flipping around entirely) causes Ema to lurch immediately out of bed. Imagine a whale breaching, and that would sum up things nicely.

My pregnancies are a piece of cake compared to what others have to deal with, but sometimes I just feel mired in my own little puddle of misery. I just...want...three (THREE!) straight hours of sleep. Just to see what it would feel like. I might decide it's not for me after all. I would like to be able to compare and contrast, though.

The Miss M Mystery is how she got into the crook of Taxman's arm last night. She padded over to me last night at 1, and (cranky and tired from the bathroom runs) I picked her up. But she was restless, and Taxman put her back into her own bed at 1:30. The next thing anyone knows, it's 2:30; he's mumbling into his radio and about to get dressed to go drive the ambulance. Where's Miss M? Not in her bed. Um, she's right next to him. Neither one of us knows how she got there. I guess if she didn't make any noise but somehow he knew she was at his bedside...of course, she woke up from the commotion. And the trauma of my disappearing for 45 seconds to go to the bathroom. Of course.