Sheesh. I've slept for about 3 hours and now it's light out. And I don't feel tired. Maybe I've slept enough over the last few days that my body won't mind. Maybe I can sleep a few more hours. Tuesday I leave for California and my plane is at 7:15 AM. My ex and I had totally different ideas about when to arrive at the airport. She was ok with arriving with minutes to spare and I'm happier with plenty of time. There's security to muddle through where I've lost belts and pens and once, a Swiss Army knife, a baby one that was hanging from my key chain. Oh, and a small container of yogurt. And jars of my homemade grape jelly. Getting to the airport late makes me crazy. So this means that I've gotta be up about 5AM, all packed and ready to walk to the light rail with my rolling bag. Which should be comical. The hill I live on is STEEP. I can see myself chasing my bag down the hill, hoping it doesn't charge out into traffic.
It's just this way sometimes. I just don't sleep. Years of broken sleep sitting with women in labor.
Today is dance day. And after dance I go swim and write with Betsy out in the country. Yes, Duvall is the country. The babies are staying put for now. My midwifery partner is freaking out a bit, seeing a storm of babies heading her way as soon as I set foot on the plane.