Electric Grandmother

Maggie Croft's Personal Journal young spirit, wire-wrapped
spark electric grandmother
arc against the night

-- Lon Prater
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I haven't gotten a lot of productive things done lately. Not a lot of writing, for example. I thought that, since we're at 36 weeks of the pregnancy here, this would be some prime writing time. This was a naive assumption. Usually, as far as I understand, this is the time where women don't necessarily get a lot of sleep. Last time, I wasn't even terribly tired at this time, as far as I recall.

With this pregnancy, I'm sleeping all the time. I sleep nine or ten hours a night. (Which isn't unusual. I've always needed about eight or nine to function well.) During the first trimester, this time around, I took a morning and afternoon nap. I've started that up again. I get exhausted about 10 a.m. I've tried skipping this nap, but I fall asleep doing whatever I'm doing at about that time. I sleep for about half an hour. At about 2:00 I take another nap, sometimes about half an hour, sometimes about an hour and a half.

I shouldn't complain; there will be very little sleep coming my way in about a month.

Tonight for dinner we had stuffed pork chops and Gratin Dauphinois. It was great until my 3-year-old jumped up on the table, grabbed my pork chop and started making it dance. I was stunned. Needless to say, neither the dancing nor the table crouching lasted very long. I thought he knew better already. He thought it was hilarious. Okay, it was pretty funny, but I didn't tell him I thought so.

This is the thing -- we've actually signed on to go through all this again?

(Oh, yeah, I love having babies.)

In the meantime, Rice's brain has started leaking from his ears. He has a deadline at the end of the week and all he does is code, code, code. He seems to be slowly going out of his mind, but it's in a goofy way, so that's okay.

At least we're not mixing the insanity with gallons of Dew and No Doze; then we'd be a dorm.

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