That's me in the comic strip.

In case anyone out there is still reading this, I have not posted in um, a while because I have been working out some ridiculous insomnia issues for the last six weeks or so. Like, maybe I've been averaging three hours a night? Maybe four? It doesn't make me sleepy so much, just so very very low energy during the day. OK, maybe a bit snippy too.

The insomnia is due to three things: Restless Leg Syndrome (also known at our house as "the twitchy legs"); frequent, frequent peeing at night; and the general inability to just... drop off. Not so much a racing mind as a stupid meandering, moseying, half-asleep mind that won't just lay down and stop.

And I've tried everything to remedy these three issues. Yes, that. Uh huh, that too. That one? Done it. I would list them all there, but it's getting late and I have an appointment with my bed to get in and just lay there.

Next (and final?) ultrasound this Friday! We'll see if #2 has spun yet. She's certainly doing something in there -- Modern dance? Bikram Yoga? Cirque du Soleil? We'll find out on the auspicious date of 9/11.

X not Y.

So I think we might have settled on a name, or rather Ruby has settled on a name that we like too.

We had it narrowed down between two, and for the last month or so, we asked her, "Which name do you like better Ru, X or Y?" and ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS she said "X."

[Note: I am not sharing this X name here (nor will I share the Y name, which every one loves but which I now can't stand). Originally with this baby, we had abandoned the secrecy that we shrouded the name "Ruby" with and started telling a few people here and there, and suffice it to say, the reception's been a bit cooler than I cared for. To the point where my mom has flat out told me that she does not care for that one and has proffered several other options. I could care less about people's opinions once the baby is out because then it's a done deal, but in the meantime it's making me insecure and neurotic, so no more name-telling.]

Anyways, back to Ruby. She has now started telling us, unbidden, that "X is da baby in Mommy's tummy." Or if you ask her the baby's name, she'll say "Baby name X. Baby name not Y. NOT Y." She is very emphatic about it. This X name, btw, is the same one that months and months ago she came up with completely on her own when we had never even mentioned it before. Truly, I sort of feel like she is tapped into some sort of greater cosmic consciousness that we are not connected to and we need to respect that. Yes I know she's only two. Yes I know we can totally change our minds. But I like this name. I think W likes this name pretty well. Ruby clearly likes it. We may have reached consensus, people.

Wherein I complain A LOT. Suck it.

Remember how I was going to blog a bunch more often? Mmm, me too.

And I really was... until I took this heinous prenatal yoga class two weeks ago. Everything felt fine until this tiny twinge caught my notice about halfway through the class. An hour later that twinge was downright uncomfortable. An hour after that I was taking a Tylenol, and by that night I couldn't lie down in any position, could barely sit, and was really only OK if I was walking around. So for two nights straight, I paced. I stood. I occasionally sat for a few minutes.

I have not pulled an all-nighter since college -- much less two in a row -- and without overstating it, let me just say it was hellish. I collapsed for about 20 minutes on night (really morning) #2, facedown on an giant pile of pillows before the pain woke me up again, but that was it. Since then, I've averaged maybe four hours of sleep per night. Thanks to repeated massage and chiropractic sessions (who knew that was a real thing?), I can lay down on one side to sleep without much pain -- which is lame. My right ear actually hurts from sleeping on it too much. And my masochist of an OB tells me I can only take one Tylenol every 8 hours for the pain (which I've actually stopped doing because it didn't even seem to have an effect) an a Benadryl every few nights to help me sleep. Hand to god, I probably took a total of three Tylenol when I was pregnant with Ru -- but this poor child is already a pill popper in utero.

Anyhoo, it is getting better. Slooooooooooooooowly (I might die of old age before this pulled/strained/pinched whatever is all better) but surely.

But really, that all fits in with the larger theme here. #2, I love you desperately already. I truly cannot wait for you to get here -- and the reason I cannot wait is 50% because I'm so excited to meet you (what are you like? do you like the chocolate coconut ice cream I'm sending your way? how bout the NPR in the mornings, is that OK? what about when I poke my belly trying to get you to kick for my friends and family -- too much?) and 50% because (and here it is folks, here is when I stop being polite and start getting real) I DON'T LIKE BEING PREGNANT.

And now it's out there. I can't take it back.

OK, so I won't take it back, but I will amend it a tiny bit. I mostly hate being pregnant, but I sometimes love it, so really, it averages out to not liking it. I don't like the eleventy million food/drink/drug restrictions. I don't like the bajillion pills I take (prenatal of course, calcium to prevent leg cramps, DHA for big brained babies, fiber for the pooping, B12 so I have energy). I don't like my MASSIVE boobs. I don't like having a hormone-caused discoloration on my upper lip that makes me look like I have a five o'clock shadow -- a hormonestache, if you will? I don't like peeing ever 15 minutes (and having to be ridiculously strategic about when and how much liquid I drink past, say, 8:45 p.m.). I don't like feeling (and sounding) like a I just sprinted up a flight of stairs if I do something random like go put laundry in the dryer. And I REALLY hate how tired I always always always am -- insomnia/pain doesn't help this one, but even if I'm "well-rested," that's a relative term. Whatever. The list goes on. And on and on...

The parts that are great are really great (hello little kicks and flutters! nice to see you awesome hair!), but on the whole, I want to smack all those women who exude the miracle of all creation from their every pore. Suck it bitches, I'm choking on a horse-sized calcium pill and haven't pooped in three days.

But what's that you say? You want to actually see pictures of the science experiment that is me and my pet parasite, #2? Because I had all kinds of pregnancy pictures up here when I was knocked up with Ruby and haven't done any for #2? OK.

Me on 7/4 at 25.5 weeks-ish (please note the red, white, and blue apparel):

Me on 8/5 at 30 weeks (here, please note my pissed off expression as I was still in severe pain and also how my boobs are the widest part of my body. Honestly I'm expecting to just topple over any moment now):

Here's a video of Ruby doing me (mom is stage-directing).

And just so we don't end on a sour note: TOMATOES!

My accidental tomato plant (apparently some of the seeds in my compost pile weren't killed the way they were supposed to and now we have a tomato plant growing in the same pot as our lime tree -- instant salsa!) is bearing fruit. Ruby's favorite thing to do is run out there and let me know if the tomatoes are ready ("iss red! da tomato is red!") or not ("oh no, iss still geen"). She refuses to eat them though; we just play with them till they smush and I recompost them.