Man Night

Ben is at "Man Night" tonight, an event held in a friend's backyard (yard= pre-landscaped, dirt rectangle behind his house complete with a metal trash can for a "fire pit") every few weeks that involves sitting around with red wine and cigars (or pipes) and feeling . . . manly?  

So, while he is out this evening, I am holding "Woman Night" over here, which, yes, does involve only me and consisted of watching "27 Dresses" (which despite myself, the bad acting of the younger sister, and the undesirable swooned over boss-man, I really did enjoy), eating a bag of cheetos (small bag...) and many chocolate chips.  Ok, a little gross, I must admit, but sometimes a night sprinkled with indulgences and a mindless movie starring beautiful people about instantaneous forgiveness and sappy love hit the spot...

And now I will treat myself to sleep... sleep that will be, I should clarify, pregnant/potty learning sleep: a sleep that takes a good many minutes to settle into because it involves wedging pillows all the way around my body until I'm in a perfectly supporting nest, that is laced with hours of tumultuous hormone-induced dreaming, that is then interrupted at some point (or points) by a small voice crying with great urgency "potty mommy!" from the other room, that involves getting up, running with a heavy child to bathroom, squatting in the dark next to him whispering encouragement, carrying the now-almost-asleep jumbo baby back to bed, and wedging myself, once again, among the pillows, only to find that 6 1/2 weeks away from delivery my mind is racing and it, in fact, takes a full hour to fall back to sleep, and that this sleep becomes deep and delicious only as, in the wee light of very early morning, a little voice calls "it moe-ning mommy, I wake up" from across the hall and the new day begins.

And so, to maximize the hours, goodnight.