Lying Awake

It is 3 am and I am wide-eyed.

This 25 pound bowling ball weighting itself on my abdomen is somehow not conducive to sleep. Hmph. Only 11 weeks to go. I'm told this is practice.

In the meantime, while there is no baby to be fussing over, it leaves an awful lot of time to lie in bed and think. Luckily, these days I have much to think about. Like...


  1. Cloth or disposable diapers?
  2. How can I arrange the furniture so that a crib will fit in here?
  3. Is it a boy or a girl?
  4. What should we name him/her?
  5. Will Linus (our dog) get jealous of the baby?


The answers:

1. Cloth - though I've yet to convince Ben of the logic of this option. Yes, weighing out convenience, I think we'll be using mostly cloth diapers. Did you know they are actually a whole lot cheaper? And they have new systems now that don't sound all that fussy. And you can get disposable diapers that are biodegradable for those times when cloth diapering is less convenient. Anyway, I'm sure my mom thinks I'm crazy and I won't stick to it and Ben may go on strike in protest but I really do feel like its a better option.

2. We'll have to move the bookshelf but it should fit along my side of the bed.

3. It's a girl...I think. And other people think so too. During the first trimester, I was sure it was a boy. Then I saw the ultrasound pictures and the profile kind of looks like me with a funny bird nose and everything. Then other people say that I'm carrying like it's a girl. My parents think it's a girl. And random people in airports have told me it's a girl and all my coworkers agree. But I have these dreams and one night it's a baby boy and the next it's a girl. So...you just never know!

4. If it's a girl I have no idea what-so-ever. I have a couple names I like, but I'm not saying because the one I really like people think is old and stuffy sounding but I think is really beautiful and old-fashioned . And I've noticed that if you tell people now the names you're thinking they'll tell you whether they like it or not. But if you just name them the name you like people can talk about how they don't like it behind your back but at least they won't turn their noses up in front of you. If it's a boy, that's a lot easier. We really like Samuel Benjamin Watson.

5. Yes. But we're working with him. Trying to bring baby scents around him more and make him stay calm. I am going to dress a teddy bear in an old sleeper that has baby scent on it and make him practice leaving it alone. I've also thought of trying to find sounds of crying babies online and playing them so he gets used to that noise. Our neighbours were down here a couple days ago with their one year old and Linus was actually really good and relatively calm. I think he will get jealous because, if you haven't noticed, he's our son. I think it might be a little bit like when you bring a baby home and the older sibling regresses a bit. But mainly, I think we just need to make sure that Linus still knows that we love him and haven't forgotten about him or his needs. Plus soon enough, he'll have a new best bud climbing all over him, pulling his ears and riding him like a horse. Every child should be so lucky!

Well, now that I've gotten all that off of my chest, I think I will try to sleep again. Goodnight!

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Recipe for your friendly neighbourhood dog walk

From the Life of Amy Watson

Ingredients:

- 1 leash
- no less than 3 poop bags
- ball (preferably 2)
- dog biscuit
- 1 "chuck it"
- a small backpack
- any variety of canine you prefer
  1. Assemble all ingredients into the backpack, reserving leash and 1 poop bag for immediate usage.
  2. Leash canine.
  3. Begin your walk down the street. Advancing to your nearest park or open field.
  4. Attempt to make your canine heel, as in walk beside you. (Notice, I said attempt).
  5. Allow bathroom breaks for your canine. You will require the poop bag at this point. It's very rude not to pick up after your dog. Have you ever stepped in the stuff? Gross. Just plug your nose and do it. Then dispose of properly please. For your viewing pleasure, I have not provided pictures of this step.
  6. Ignore this sign:
  7. Make your canine sit and then let him/her off leash.
  8. Prepare "Chuck it" as shown.
  9. Throw ball. Tell your dog to "go git it, boy" or girl.
  10. Then say, "Good job boy, now bring it here."
  11. Now say "drop it, no, drop it. Drop it. Drop it now! DROP IT NOW. No, I'm serious, Drop it. Don't run away from me you bad dog. Bring it right here and drop it. Drop it."
  12. Give up.
  13. Insert hand into canine's mouth, obtain slimy, slobbery ball.
  14. Repeat the above 6 steps for at least 15 to 20 minutes. 
  15. Re-leash your canine. Use the ball or a treat, if necessary, to make him come and sit for you. He may want to pretend he's not finished yet when he sees the leash, so kind of hide it a little bit or trick him. 
  16. Continue meandering walk through your neighbourhood. Notice, heeling on the leash now is somewhat plausible since some amount of pent up energy has been released. i.e Before ball throwing (right). After ball throwing (left).
  17. Continue making your way through your neighbourhood enjoying the smell of blossoms, the sounds of songbirds and the feeling that spring hath finally come. All the while try not to find yourself being dragged through mud to the nearest fire hydrant or lamp post.
  18. Arrive at your next park. (Even if this means hiking a big hill and you're six months pregnant.)
  19. Unleash your canine and roam the park together.
  20. Your canine will find a big puddle and lie down in it. Then he'll look up at you with eyes that say, "I have never been happier than I am at this very moment."
  21. Cry, if you must. Or laugh. Your choice.
  22. After a good romp, re-leash your dog and head home. 
  23. Wipe muddy paws.
Serves: 2
Estimated Time: 1h 15min


Enjoy one happy, healthy canine best friend.

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The Time Between the Nines

I hate waking up in the morning.

No really. I despise rolling out of a warm bed and feeling my feet on cold floors. I hate that groggy, I wish I were still dreaming, is it morning already feeling. And I love, love, love sleep.

I am a sleep champion. I can sleep through thunderstorms that wake the dead. When I'm tired I fall asleep in less than a minute. Twelve hours to sleep? Make it fourteen. I'm up to it. If sleeping was an Olympic sport and having narcolepsy was considered 'doping' I would be a gold medalist.

Once I'm awake and have officially rejoined the land of the living, I love life. Most people consider me to be pleasant and happy. I consider myself an out-going optimist.


But poor Benjamin, who sees the moments in between and valiantly tries to help me in my daily transformations from hibernating bear to something approaching a civilized homo sapien.

I cringe at the harsh sound that zips out of my alarm clock. I have a faster draw on the snooze button than a Old West bank robber on his holstered gun. My motor memory for the location of this precious button is so precise that I can hit snooze without actually waking up. Sometimes I open my eyes and realize my alarm has gone off three times already before my brain registers beyond it's hand-to-button reflex arc.

Which also explains why I often eat cereal in the car on the way to work.

My alarm clock buzzes every nine minutes after you hit snooze and it's that loud tortured parakeet bellow (because I literally will not wake up to the radio). And so when I work day shifts it goes off at 6:00 then 6:09, 6:18, 6:27, 6:36, and 6:45. This is where I get concerned because I have to leave for work by 7. Now being a relatively low maintenance gal and wearing essentially the same outfit in varying colours to work and lately being limited to a certain number of scrubs because of my growing diameter, getting myself dressed and ready is thankfully easy. Making lunch and eating breakfast in time presents a real challenge and I usually commission my husband extraordinaire to help.


And the stupidest part is that I still wake up at six, I'm not really "sleeping" an extra 45 minutes, as I like to tell myself. I am in some sort of hybrid state, floating in between my dream world and reality. I wish I could be one of those get up and go type of people. And believe me, I've tried. But I'm not. And I've just accepted that however futile, I crave that extra teeny bit of semi-dreamy bliss between the nines.

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