A house divided

Last night, Mr. Dub and I slept separately for much of the the night. He got the king-size bed and I got the couch. No, it wasn't marital (or martial) discord that led me to the couch (which is a rental, which makes it all that much more disturbing).

I slept on the sofa because little Ms. Dub has decided that I don't deserve to sleep. (This is the part where I invent intense emotions for someone I only know through slight movements and kicks.) Apparently, she's mad at me that her living quarters are getting increasingly cramped. Kids these days! She thinks she already deserves a penthouse suite to finish her gestation. So to express her anger, she has started to wiggle incessantly and punch me in either side when I attempt to get to sleep. It doesn't help that our bed (which is also a rental, which is even more disturbing than the couch), is hard as rocks. I feel like I'm smashing her face when I sleep in any position besides sitting-up, which next to the couch is my best sleeping secret.

I guess it's all preparation for when she arrives and can not only keep me up at night, but can do so with by crying, screaming or wetting herself ... or worse. I have to admit, I'm not really daunted by the thought since a good night's sleep is a distant memory at this point. But, for the record, she's not getting our king-size bed to start, even if she's big on her personal space. (And I really believe she is, even though Mr. Dub says I'm creating a sour personality for our sweet, demure firstborn.)

And for the record, that's not actually our couch in the photo ... or our apartment. Though many outside Colorado like to envision the entire state as an expanse of cabin-style homes with wood paneling. Alas, it's not true. There's also not dense pine trees everywhere you go unless you're in the mountains. And I've yet to see the ghost of John Denver.