Week 32, Day 7 (Cock-a-doodle-arrrrrgh)

I'm going to strangle that &$@*&### rooster!

I woke (as usual) at 2.19am for a potty stop, and stumbled back to bed thinking fuzzily that sleep would return asap. After all, it's a big day today with client bookings so I need to be bright eyed and bushy tailed.

Pah.

Baby got the hiccups, didn't he. Poor little bugger lurched around for more than half an hour (I timed him) and nothing seemed to help. I defy anyone to sleep when you've got a fairy elephant bumping away in misery in your abdomen.

Finally got him settled, rolled over.. oh bugger. Wayne and dog are having a snoring contest, and the dog is winning.. by a nose.

Hiss at dog. One down, one to go.

Nudge husband, ask him to roll over. He wakes up instead and tells me about his nightmare of a runaway tractor that won't let him dismount. I sardonically reply "turn the engine off then" (wryly amused that snoring becomes a tractor noise when viewed from the other side of sleep).

"I can't turn the engine off" he grumbled, "that's the bloody problem. I get this nightmare a lot."

Bite tongue to choke off smart retort about the need to fit a muffler to his face, and listen with amusement as his breathing instantly deepens and the lucky shit drifts back off to sleep.

Dog starts licking itself. Slurp gulp gulp.. Hiss at dog again. Dog sighs, rolls over, sighs again.

Roll fat self over, which wakes baby and he starts to kick. Rub his butt and mentally ask him to go back to sleep darling please.

Baby obliges.

Glance at clock ... it's now 3.48am. Need another pee.

Get back to bed, snuggle in. Drift off to sleep...

Woken sharply when two cats decide to play tag on the bed, involving trampolining over my feet. Snarl/hiss in anger, glance at clock. 3.56am.

Roll over, listen to dog sigh again. Hear other dog get up out of his bed and begin to walk up the hallway. Hiss at that dog to get back in his bloody basket, and hear him noisily obey.

Too hot - throw off all covers. Prop knee to relieve pressure on back, feel baby lurch in protest, rub his back again and apologise.

Start to drift off to sleep.. the rooster starts crowing.

Oh give me a break! What bloody time is this? 4.07am. Ya gotta be kidding me...

Try to wait him out (unsuccessfully), get up at 4.14 and get MP3 player. Return to bed.

Husband wakes again and tells you about his recurring tractor dream.

Again.

Tell him to turn his pillow over. (That always works, btw) Have a moan about the rotten rooster.

Listen to husband hit snoreville in nanoseconds, hate him desperately in extreme jealousy.

Turn on MP3 player softly (little more than white noise) but find the 'random' selection only wants to play driving rock music. Shit.. forgot to load any elevator music..

Turn MP3 player off at 4.41, roll over to find husband facing your pillow, breathing heavily in your direction. Curse self for being claustrophobic (can't stand breath on my face, ever), roll over again.

Too cold. Whip covers back over self, wriggle into position.

Start to drift off... bladder decides to sound the alert.

Tend to this.. get back into bed (getting really grumpy now). Dog snoring again. Too bad.

Start to drift off... and that bloody rooster starts up again!

Decide to get up, have a shower, and do client billing because by now it's 5.10 am and I'm clearly not going to get any sleep. Somehow restrain self from going out to chookhouse and strangling said rooster. (but thoroughly enjoys mental slide show of rather violent and justified endings to cockerels who have no concept of time)

Discover the joys of sending through a fax at 5.30am to a client who is a month behind on his bill. Hope I woke him up (pretty sure I did.. his fax machine is in his bedroom for some strange reason!)

Get all billing & balancing done, look at clock, see it's 6.30 and time to update the blog before breakfast.

Pah. Who needs sleep anyway? ;-P