Couldn't sleep worth a darn last night. Water was giving me heartburn and then, when I finally started sawing logs, my child-to-be decides if I'm not ready to give birth, the precious little one is finding it's own way out. Apparently that route was through my side.
After about 30 minutes of pushing little feet and/or hands back in, I threw in the towel and got up out of bed around 4:30 AM, hoping to let my hubster sleep longer.
Swaying, rocking, swinging my arms from side to side all seemed to work for a time and then the tunneling would begin again.
Too early to grab said sleepy husband out of bed to go with me on a walk with the dog, I zipped up my jacket, put on my watch (because then I can actually see myself getting more and more slow) and headed out the door.
Chinook and I made it halfway through the first lap when we were joined by Mr. Braxton and Mr. Hicks (kidding - thanks to Wikipedia I know it's just one guy).
After picking that weirdo up, we were, utterly inexplicably, joined by Sacha Baron Cohen singing the "I Like to Move It" song from Madagascar. But only four lines over and over again.
So off the merry band of us went, Chinook and I doing a brisk 20-minute mile, cheered on by Braxton-Hicks and the king of lemurs.
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