Supposedly, of course ...
And I'm caught nicely between "Can I HONESTLY make it through four more weeks of this?", and "there is NO WAY I am ready for that kid to come yet."
Lord, your timing, please. Because I'm not even sure what would make the most sense.
Just not quite yet ... not quite yet.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Sunday, June 15, 2008
the graduate
Lizzy's great kindergarten teachers staged an elaborate graduation for their 11-kid class on Friday. The families watched from a tent while the graduates (lined up in front of us, in little mortarboards and blue gowns) sang songs, recited poems and the like.
You won't believe this, but I took a few pictures! :)
And once a kid has a diploma, well, you KNOW what he/she's gonna do with it:
Here's the three of us, right after the ceremony. I'll try to avoid mentioning the phrase "water weight" overly much:
After we had snacks there at the day care, and cake, and watched the slide show that my husband and I put together, we went to a local park and had a barbecue and swam. (if you're curious, no, I did not swim. I sat in the shade and felt self-conscious about my Wonder Bread loaf-sized ankles.)
We also could've played mini-golf, but the siren song of the water was too much for the kids to resist. God bless the dads! They played endlessly and interchangeably with the kids.
Matt told me in the midst of it at one point: (something like) "I wish sometimes I were a boy daddy." He did have a blast, throwing those boys around and being semi-strangled by them.
Here's a cutie lineup!
You won't believe this, but I took a few pictures! :)
Here's their cake. What I found hilarious was how we parents carefully cut pieces around the kids until we absolutely had to break into that section. (Lizzy's on the far left in the bottom row.)
Good cake, too! Good ratio of frosting to cake, and nice and sugary. Added bonus -- it turned your mouth blue. (yes -- I'm still pregnant. I'm currently quite obsessed with frosting, and seriously considering asking Matt if we can celebrate my birthday with cake 2 1/2 months early. No presents -- just cake. Hey, maybe cake BOTH times!!!)
I love this next shot because I can see two little Lizzy expressions at once!
The teachers had written a little essay on the back of each child's paper that told what they wanted to be when they grew up. Lizzy? She wants to be "a mother of six -- three boys and three girls." I wonder if this is an only-child thing ...
This next one, obviously, is Lizzy receiving her diploma. They really went all out!
And once a kid has a diploma, well, you KNOW what he/she's gonna do with it:
Here's the three of us, right after the ceremony. I'll try to avoid mentioning the phrase "water weight" overly much:
After we had snacks there at the day care, and cake, and watched the slide show that my husband and I put together, we went to a local park and had a barbecue and swam. (if you're curious, no, I did not swim. I sat in the shade and felt self-conscious about my Wonder Bread loaf-sized ankles.)
We also could've played mini-golf, but the siren song of the water was too much for the kids to resist. God bless the dads! They played endlessly and interchangeably with the kids.
Matt told me in the midst of it at one point: (something like) "I wish sometimes I were a boy daddy." He did have a blast, throwing those boys around and being semi-strangled by them.
Here's a cutie lineup!
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
feedback questions
One of my little features department tasks in our weekly magazine is the collecting and positioning of the week's feedback replies. Basically, I (with help from coworkers) think of inane, but innocuous, questions to send the reporters for their humiliation -- or so they think -- forcing them out into the world to interact with (one would hope) our readers, overseas. They grab passersby and ask the questions, take down the answers, take a head shot of the person, and send these goodies back to me.
Granted, they're generally quite lame, along the lines of, "What's your favorite hobby?" or, "if you had one million dollars to give away, what worthy organization would you choose?" I know ... zzzzz. Sometimes we make it relevant for an upcoming holiday and ask something like, "What was your favorite Halloween costume as a child?"
I'm about to compile a new list of questions, so I sent out an e-plea to the bureaus to help me come up with stuff. Part of the idea is, hey, reporters! If you dislike the questions so much, help us think of better ones!
One of the reporters sent back some ideas that had me bursting with laughter this morning. I don't want to type them here, rendering them Googlable, but if you're interested, let me know and I'd be happy to pass along the list. I found it quite hilarious. Unusable, but hilarious.
Granted, they're generally quite lame, along the lines of, "What's your favorite hobby?" or, "if you had one million dollars to give away, what worthy organization would you choose?" I know ... zzzzz. Sometimes we make it relevant for an upcoming holiday and ask something like, "What was your favorite Halloween costume as a child?"
I'm about to compile a new list of questions, so I sent out an e-plea to the bureaus to help me come up with stuff. Part of the idea is, hey, reporters! If you dislike the questions so much, help us think of better ones!
One of the reporters sent back some ideas that had me bursting with laughter this morning. I don't want to type them here, rendering them Googlable, but if you're interested, let me know and I'd be happy to pass along the list. I found it quite hilarious. Unusable, but hilarious.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
spousal science
The spouse and I are in the process (still? or is this lifelong?) of learning when to listen to each other, and when not to. I mean, I'd like to think we always listen; but, well, when do we believe in the greater wisdom of the other and take the proffered advice? Or believe the offered fact?
That may not even be what's coming into play in this most recent anecdote.
What happened is this: Yesterday morning, we left the house late (even for us!) en route to kicking off another workweek. Searing hot already, at 8:30-ish. And our car's A/C has been reduced to a trickle.
Needless to say, we were all pretty out of it. I forget exactly how this conversation got started. Oh yeah -- I mentioned that if Matt had any plans to do anything for his dad, this coming weekend was Father's Day. Matt said, "What? I thought Father's Day was yesterday!" Which sent me into immediate freakout mode. At first I thought, noooo ... but I'm so losing track of days recently -- I base things on a) how many days until Matt's dad moves out of our basement (meaning no offense to him; that's simply when a lot of home rearranging takes place), and b) how many days until my due date, not what's actually stated on the calendar -- that it COULD BE POSSIBLE.
"I talked to my dad yesterday! And didn't say 'Happy Father's Day'!" I wailed. "Nor have I mailed off his gift! It cannot be!"
"Well, I told my dad 'Happy Father's Day,'" Matt said. "But didn't do anything else. He did seem surprised that it was Father's Day."
Then I felt horrible for not having acknowledged the day's import to Matt in any way! I am a terrible wife and mother!
I sat there for a few seconds, weighing what was more likely: That Matt was right, and I had missed Father's Day, or that I had the correct sense of schedule in my head after all. I simply wasn't certain.
Then Matt spoke the words that set us both straight: No. It cannot have been Father's Day. If it had been, Lizzy's kindergarten would most surely have acknowledged the event with some sort of fanfare for the dads.
At least the day care has its act together, even if we don't.
That may not even be what's coming into play in this most recent anecdote.
What happened is this: Yesterday morning, we left the house late (even for us!) en route to kicking off another workweek. Searing hot already, at 8:30-ish. And our car's A/C has been reduced to a trickle.
Needless to say, we were all pretty out of it. I forget exactly how this conversation got started. Oh yeah -- I mentioned that if Matt had any plans to do anything for his dad, this coming weekend was Father's Day. Matt said, "What? I thought Father's Day was yesterday!" Which sent me into immediate freakout mode. At first I thought, noooo ... but I'm so losing track of days recently -- I base things on a) how many days until Matt's dad moves out of our basement (meaning no offense to him; that's simply when a lot of home rearranging takes place), and b) how many days until my due date, not what's actually stated on the calendar -- that it COULD BE POSSIBLE.
"I talked to my dad yesterday! And didn't say 'Happy Father's Day'!" I wailed. "Nor have I mailed off his gift! It cannot be!"
"Well, I told my dad 'Happy Father's Day,'" Matt said. "But didn't do anything else. He did seem surprised that it was Father's Day."
Then I felt horrible for not having acknowledged the day's import to Matt in any way! I am a terrible wife and mother!
I sat there for a few seconds, weighing what was more likely: That Matt was right, and I had missed Father's Day, or that I had the correct sense of schedule in my head after all. I simply wasn't certain.
Then Matt spoke the words that set us both straight: No. It cannot have been Father's Day. If it had been, Lizzy's kindergarten would most surely have acknowledged the event with some sort of fanfare for the dads.
At least the day care has its act together, even if we don't.
Friday, June 06, 2008
oh baby
I had the dreaded June 5 "July babies meeting" from 7 to 9:30, in old-town Alexandria, 30 miles from my home, last night. Which was a GIGANTIC pain, though I suppose it was fairly useful. I think the main point was, "if you feel you're going into labor, AT ALL, CALL US!!! in bold and underlined three times. Okay. Will do. With some really bizarre slide show/film/discussions thrown in there.
A touching example, not for the squeamish: If you're bleeding too much immediately after, er, birthing? passing? your placenta, and your baby isn't into the suckling thing yet, your husband can do it! Because nipple stimulation is necessary to make the uterus contract the necessary amount to stanch the blood flow! Yes, okay, I just lost 18 of 19 of you. And, no, I would never ever do this, not with other people in the room. I will bleed to death first. So, you get my point with the earthy gore. And lots and lots of episiotomy discussions. Apparently, first-time laborers are scared out of their minds to have one. When you get there, trust me -- YOU WILL NOT CARE, if it gets that kid out of you.
I was amused to note that almost all the women had their husbands in tow. I suppose that makes sense. I think that Matt's suffered through enough Bradley classes, and one real-live birth!, to be given a break. Also, someone had to put Lizzy to bed ...
So, I got home at 11:35 last night. On a weeknight. Had to wait on two late-night metros, endure a bunch of drunken Nationals baseball fans, etc., etc. I hate it when I have no evening, and get to bed quite late to boot. I've been comatose today.
I did note, as I was strolling around before the meeting, that the birth center is, in fact, a block and a half west of the bar/grill where Matt and I first met (doing karaoke). Awwwww!
I do so love old-town Alexandria. It's so lovely, in that genuine, yet kinda touristy-fake, real old-timey Virginia sort of way. Adorable buildings; brick walkways; gas lanterns; pineapples poised over entryways; etc. It's probably the one place I've consistently taken visitors. Not to the White House; not to, um, whatever else we have here in D.C. that I used to know about; but to Old Town. It's that cool to me. Lots and lots of good memories.
Here's hoping that one more is about six weeks away!
A touching example, not for the squeamish: If you're bleeding too much immediately after, er, birthing? passing? your placenta, and your baby isn't into the suckling thing yet, your husband can do it! Because nipple stimulation is necessary to make the uterus contract the necessary amount to stanch the blood flow! Yes, okay, I just lost 18 of 19 of you. And, no, I would never ever do this, not with other people in the room. I will bleed to death first. So, you get my point with the earthy gore. And lots and lots of episiotomy discussions. Apparently, first-time laborers are scared out of their minds to have one. When you get there, trust me -- YOU WILL NOT CARE, if it gets that kid out of you.
I was amused to note that almost all the women had their husbands in tow. I suppose that makes sense. I think that Matt's suffered through enough Bradley classes, and one real-live birth!, to be given a break. Also, someone had to put Lizzy to bed ...
So, I got home at 11:35 last night. On a weeknight. Had to wait on two late-night metros, endure a bunch of drunken Nationals baseball fans, etc., etc. I hate it when I have no evening, and get to bed quite late to boot. I've been comatose today.
I did note, as I was strolling around before the meeting, that the birth center is, in fact, a block and a half west of the bar/grill where Matt and I first met (doing karaoke). Awwwww!
I do so love old-town Alexandria. It's so lovely, in that genuine, yet kinda touristy-fake, real old-timey Virginia sort of way. Adorable buildings; brick walkways; gas lanterns; pineapples poised over entryways; etc. It's probably the one place I've consistently taken visitors. Not to the White House; not to, um, whatever else we have here in D.C. that I used to know about; but to Old Town. It's that cool to me. Lots and lots of good memories.
Here's hoping that one more is about six weeks away!
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
there are tornadoes outside,
and stuff, but what I have been most shocked by this afternoon is that the Five Guys in the food court downstairs claims today that their fries (well, potatoes) were grown in Moses Lake, Idaho.
Unbelievable.
Unbelievable.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
what Matt's been up to
His latest project -- a shed in his mom's backyard. Where we lived until a year ago January.
Ridiculously cute, eh? It matches the townhouse. Built from scratch, as every good Maisel project is!
And he's got a nasty sunburn on his back to show for it, as well...
Ridiculously cute, eh? It matches the townhouse. Built from scratch, as every good Maisel project is!
And he's got a nasty sunburn on his back to show for it, as well...
34 weeks
A good friend encouraged me to be loud and proud to be myself, not one of these frustratingly dainty little pregnant people who look totally like themselves, except with a volleyball under their shirts. So, in the spirit of self-acceptance, I present to you this photo of myself, taken last night by my 5-year-old daughter (which is why it's angled up considerably, perhaps heightening the effect?), looking more like someone who's gained 50 pounds over the course of the experience and was a little overweight to start with:
Yes, I have six more weeks to go (in theory). No, I'm not sure how it's possible to get MUCH bigger, but I have every confidence that a way will be found. Supposedly, the baby weighs about four pounds now. Since Lizzy was 8 pounds, 2 ounces ... oh my. Yes. A ways to go.
The good news is, from the vanity perspective: The ever-increasing belly minimizes the also ever-increasing thighs, upper arms, double chin, etc. ... There's some work to be done here after that baby arrives. We have big plans to have located and procured a Wii Fit by then.
Yes, I have six more weeks to go (in theory). No, I'm not sure how it's possible to get MUCH bigger, but I have every confidence that a way will be found. Supposedly, the baby weighs about four pounds now. Since Lizzy was 8 pounds, 2 ounces ... oh my. Yes. A ways to go.
The good news is, from the vanity perspective: The ever-increasing belly minimizes the also ever-increasing thighs, upper arms, double chin, etc. ... There's some work to be done here after that baby arrives. We have big plans to have located and procured a Wii Fit by then.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
summer entertainment
This is the time of year I make it a priority to get out and see movies. Back in 'the old days' -- pre-kids, I suppose that means, and especially during the summers I wasn't dating anyone, or the boyfriend lived in a different town, or whatever ... I would go see a lot of art-house movies by myself. But these days, I have time and freedom for only so many a year, and frankly, my brain is mush. And I also can't take the morally ambiguous, pathos-heavy ones any more, be they ever so well done. So it's big blockbustery stuff for me.
Thus far this summer, I've seen three -- I thought I'd give you Kate's perspective.
First, Iron Man. If I haven't already said so, this movie ROCKS. For so many reasons. Pretty much, you just have to see it. I'm betting it will be the best of the summer. (I have some hope, but not too much, for The Dark Knight - the first Batman movie was awesome, but Heath Ledger as the Joker is NOT doing it for me in the previews. But perhaps I'll be surprised. I'll also add that Hancock is starting to look rather interesting, as well. These movies both come out on or after my due date, though, which means I don't know how long it'll be before I can make it to them. Unless I take an infant, to a matinee. Hmmmm...)
I'd never even heard of Iron Man, the superhero, before the hype machine cranked up for this movie. I'm no Marvel Comics addict. Though there's nothing at all wrong with that. Low expectations do tend to help. Though this movie would meet high expectations, as well.
Second: Prince Caspian. Now, no one loves the Narnia books more than I do. Really. Not possible. And I'm not one of these purist types who flies into a million pieces if a moviemaker deviates from the book by a smidge (I'm looking at you, Potter fans). I recognize this sometimes makes for more compelling viewing, as opposed to reading. And I liked the first movie.
However ... this one didn't quite do it for me. It's hard to say why. One likely reason -- it was my least favorite book. Just not all that. The Pevensies go back to Narnia. And there are a few compelling thoughts about faith and God sprinkled here and there. That's it. The end. Well, and the revelation that there are other 'ways into Narnia,' which I don't quite know what to do with. But if you want killer Middle Earth-style battle scenes, and special effects, it begins and ends with the Lord of the Rings trilogy. This series suffers greatly from having come after that one. I do realize that it's possible/probable that the only reason the movies were green-lighted (green-lit?) was the smashing success of LotR. The next book/movie (Voyage of the Dawn Treader) will be either utterly killer, or hopelessly cheesy. I'm crossing my fingers for the former. I like the casting of the younger Pevensies best, so I won't be sad to see the eldest two go. It's already got that going for it. No White Witch, though (I don't think). Tilda Swinton absolutely rocks.
I just got back from the latest Indiana Jones movie. Disappointing. It's even worse than you think a movie about a 'Kingdom of the Crystal Skull' will be, believe it or not. Well, it's not terrible -- none of these movies was terrible -- but so not Indy at his finest. It's actually not even interesting enough to be terrible, come to think of it. I mean, the second movie was what I'd consider terrible, and those images of eating baby snakes and monkey brains, and still-beating hearts ripped out of chests, and the sheer horror that is Kate Capshaw, is forever burned into my brain. This latest one, surprisingly, was less than stellar not because Harrison Ford has one foot in the grave. That all played just fine. And they do some cool stuff with the new addition -- Shia LaBeouf. Who is my personal favorite 'far-younger-than-me actor that I secretly love for some random reason.' Though my mother in law thoroughly cured me of that recently by remarking, when I told her that he reminded me a lot of Matt: "Oh, really? I've always thought he looked just like Nick" (her other son). Yeah. No more Shia lust for me. Done. Bleeaaahhh.
But I still can enjoy the actor -- he does his slightly goofy, comedic, sometimes black sheep thing very well. And he did it well here. They had the usual cute little comedic touches that Indy movies do so well. I also adore Cate Blanchett, but they didn't ask a whole lot of her. But the storyline? oh MY. I don't want to spoil anyone, but I will say that if I wanted sci-fi, I'd watch one of my Star Trek DVDs. For pity's sake, people.
George Lucas, I'd love to say you have failed me for the last time, but you have your finger in so many cinematic pies, you're a hard one to avoid.
Thus far this summer, I've seen three -- I thought I'd give you Kate's perspective.
First, Iron Man. If I haven't already said so, this movie ROCKS. For so many reasons. Pretty much, you just have to see it. I'm betting it will be the best of the summer. (I have some hope, but not too much, for The Dark Knight - the first Batman movie was awesome, but Heath Ledger as the Joker is NOT doing it for me in the previews. But perhaps I'll be surprised. I'll also add that Hancock is starting to look rather interesting, as well. These movies both come out on or after my due date, though, which means I don't know how long it'll be before I can make it to them. Unless I take an infant, to a matinee. Hmmmm...)
I'd never even heard of Iron Man, the superhero, before the hype machine cranked up for this movie. I'm no Marvel Comics addict. Though there's nothing at all wrong with that. Low expectations do tend to help. Though this movie would meet high expectations, as well.
Second: Prince Caspian. Now, no one loves the Narnia books more than I do. Really. Not possible. And I'm not one of these purist types who flies into a million pieces if a moviemaker deviates from the book by a smidge (I'm looking at you, Potter fans). I recognize this sometimes makes for more compelling viewing, as opposed to reading. And I liked the first movie.
However ... this one didn't quite do it for me. It's hard to say why. One likely reason -- it was my least favorite book. Just not all that. The Pevensies go back to Narnia. And there are a few compelling thoughts about faith and God sprinkled here and there. That's it. The end. Well, and the revelation that there are other 'ways into Narnia,' which I don't quite know what to do with. But if you want killer Middle Earth-style battle scenes, and special effects, it begins and ends with the Lord of the Rings trilogy. This series suffers greatly from having come after that one. I do realize that it's possible/probable that the only reason the movies were green-lighted (green-lit?) was the smashing success of LotR. The next book/movie (Voyage of the Dawn Treader) will be either utterly killer, or hopelessly cheesy. I'm crossing my fingers for the former. I like the casting of the younger Pevensies best, so I won't be sad to see the eldest two go. It's already got that going for it. No White Witch, though (I don't think). Tilda Swinton absolutely rocks.
I just got back from the latest Indiana Jones movie. Disappointing. It's even worse than you think a movie about a 'Kingdom of the Crystal Skull' will be, believe it or not. Well, it's not terrible -- none of these movies was terrible -- but so not Indy at his finest. It's actually not even interesting enough to be terrible, come to think of it. I mean, the second movie was what I'd consider terrible, and those images of eating baby snakes and monkey brains, and still-beating hearts ripped out of chests, and the sheer horror that is Kate Capshaw, is forever burned into my brain. This latest one, surprisingly, was less than stellar not because Harrison Ford has one foot in the grave. That all played just fine. And they do some cool stuff with the new addition -- Shia LaBeouf. Who is my personal favorite 'far-younger-than-me actor that I secretly love for some random reason.' Though my mother in law thoroughly cured me of that recently by remarking, when I told her that he reminded me a lot of Matt: "Oh, really? I've always thought he looked just like Nick" (her other son). Yeah. No more Shia lust for me. Done. Bleeaaahhh.
But I still can enjoy the actor -- he does his slightly goofy, comedic, sometimes black sheep thing very well. And he did it well here. They had the usual cute little comedic touches that Indy movies do so well. I also adore Cate Blanchett, but they didn't ask a whole lot of her. But the storyline? oh MY. I don't want to spoil anyone, but I will say that if I wanted sci-fi, I'd watch one of my Star Trek DVDs. For pity's sake, people.
George Lucas, I'd love to say you have failed me for the last time, but you have your finger in so many cinematic pies, you're a hard one to avoid.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
I dunno about this place sometimes
I am never up this early!
Why am I up this early today? Well, I wanted to MAKE SURE Lizzy got registered for a swim class at the local rec center.
I wouldn't have even dreamed of the necessity of getting up at 5 a.m. for this task. But stumbling upon the registration site a week or two after the first day of registration didn't work so well last time. Actually, it did -- I got her on a wait list, and our name came up, but she decided that the second-level class sounded too scary. Given her tendency toward shyness in new (especially slightly scary, to her) situations, it was probably for the best that we gave up that spot.
But, she'll be 6 in November, and this level 1 class was only good through age 5. So, with Matt's agreement to escort her to class -- they begin four weeks before my due date, and last for eight weeks -- I planned to sign her up for a summer course that starts in June.
Amusingly enough, the one thing that got me stuck on rising early for this task was Fairfax County's "Don't worry! Don't lose sleep over registering your kid -- HA! Actually, everything but the aquatics classes remains open for registration after the first day. By the way -- did you know we start registration AT 5 A.M.?!!?!
Heck. Pregnant people can't sleep, anyway.* So I found myself awake and staring at the clock at 5:13, and thought, what the hey.
By the time the computer graciously allowed me access to a registration page, it was about 5:20, and I was sweating a little. Just the fact that the site seemed to be crashing due to high volume was blowing my mind. Or was it our computer?
Nope. It's the site. When I got in, NINE of the class' TWELVE spots had been spoken for. Are you SERIOUS??? By the time I paid and logged out, it was 10. And I don't think the 10th was Lizzy. Granted, it's a Saturday morning class, the only time we (and probably many others) could make it.
Well, we're in now, boy! And the lesson is reinforced; if the game is competition, or getting your kid in a program of some sort, don't mess with the parents in Fairfax County. Yowzah.
* This has to be God's/the body's slightly harsh way of preparing us for those sleepless nights. Seems like SLEEP is my ideal preparation for months of sleeplessness, but hey. Not up to me, apparently.
Why am I up this early today? Well, I wanted to MAKE SURE Lizzy got registered for a swim class at the local rec center.
I wouldn't have even dreamed of the necessity of getting up at 5 a.m. for this task. But stumbling upon the registration site a week or two after the first day of registration didn't work so well last time. Actually, it did -- I got her on a wait list, and our name came up, but she decided that the second-level class sounded too scary. Given her tendency toward shyness in new (especially slightly scary, to her) situations, it was probably for the best that we gave up that spot.
But, she'll be 6 in November, and this level 1 class was only good through age 5. So, with Matt's agreement to escort her to class -- they begin four weeks before my due date, and last for eight weeks -- I planned to sign her up for a summer course that starts in June.
Amusingly enough, the one thing that got me stuck on rising early for this task was Fairfax County's "Don't worry! Don't lose sleep over registering your kid -- HA! Actually, everything but the aquatics classes remains open for registration after the first day. By the way -- did you know we start registration AT 5 A.M.?!!?!
Heck. Pregnant people can't sleep, anyway.* So I found myself awake and staring at the clock at 5:13, and thought, what the hey.
By the time the computer graciously allowed me access to a registration page, it was about 5:20, and I was sweating a little. Just the fact that the site seemed to be crashing due to high volume was blowing my mind. Or was it our computer?
Nope. It's the site. When I got in, NINE of the class' TWELVE spots had been spoken for. Are you SERIOUS??? By the time I paid and logged out, it was 10. And I don't think the 10th was Lizzy. Granted, it's a Saturday morning class, the only time we (and probably many others) could make it.
Well, we're in now, boy! And the lesson is reinforced; if the game is competition, or getting your kid in a program of some sort, don't mess with the parents in Fairfax County. Yowzah.
* This has to be God's/the body's slightly harsh way of preparing us for those sleepless nights. Seems like SLEEP is my ideal preparation for months of sleeplessness, but hey. Not up to me, apparently.
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