FYI: Hospital tours are terrifying

My mother has spent the bulk of her adult life waking up before the crack of dawn. And she never complains.

I've had to haul myself out of bed at 6:30 am every day this week and I'm about to eat my own hair. Clearly one of us is made of stronger stuff.

I suspect my grumpiness has to do with the fact that I am now waking up every half-hour. I knew I was up a lot but a few nights ago I actually started checking the clock. 1:45. 2:15. 2:45... If I wasn't shuffling off to the bathroom or switching sleeping positions (shifting from left to right requires significant pillow rearranging), I was peeing or shifting positions. El preggos aren't supposed to sleep on our backs (baby crushes an important vein) or on our right side (baby crushes our liver) but my stomach goes numb when I sleep on my left which means... well mostly it means a Big Batch of Bitch. Possum has also decided that night time is the right time to hit the disco which makes for one sleep-deprived, grouchtastic mama. Supposedly this is nature's way of preparing me for the future and if that's the case, nature can bite it. The kid isn't here yet! MORE SLEEP.

In childbirth class we did an exercise where we held an ice cube in our hands to help simulate the discomfort of contractions. (Yes, the instructor did point out that melting ice cubes feel nothing like contractions.) Let me tell you, one minute doesn't seem very long until you're holding a piece of ice in your hand. I lasted about 15 seconds before making a scene. This does not bode well. Still, this week's class was surprisingly interesting, mostly due to the fact that it was massage night and I'll watch as many horrible videos as you want as long as my feet get rubbed. I wish I had the stuff to make it through childbirth drug-free (interfering with a fundamentally natural, instinctive process isn't my ideal and the thought of sticking a chopstick-sized needle in my back is about as appealing as being attacked by cats) but seriously, it's 2007. Bring the drugs.

In other news, we had the 29 week sonogram and everything looks sweet. Possum's starting to turn which, after seeing what Miss Moo went through (not one, but two breech babies), anything resembling launch position is cause for celebration. The kid is now 14 inches long and 2 1/2 pounds; roughly the size of a small dachshund. Unfortunately I continue to be the size of a small country.