late night snack, anyone?

It's dark. It's quiet. My husband is snoring.

So why the @!$#@ am I awake?!

This is a question I've been asking myself a lot lately. It ping ponged around my head just last night when I had no choice but to drag myself from bed at 3 a.m. and finish dinner's leftover ravioli.

This night (or morning, rather), I've been forced into a peanut butter sandwich.

If the baby was out of my tummy, I would hold it up to the window, I think, and show it what nighttime looks like. Then I might explain that people sleep during this dark period (which seems to last about 18 hours a night between October and January) and they cha cha cha during the day.

People laugh when I tell them about the latest news in my sleep/wake cycle.

"Ha!" a work colleague said a few days ago. "Get ready. When the baby's born you'll never sleep again!"

What's the word for people who delight in other's pain?

Schadenfreude.

This awake at night thing isn't all bad though. Appears this baby likes to kick me at odd times of the day. Or, I can feel the tiny flutters in my abdomen more powerfully when the world's asleep and relatively noiseless. I'm probably also calmer and more in tune with the tiny creature when there's less stimulation from the outside world.

And I guess that's worth it. It's nice to finally feel some communication from inside there, besides the usual nausea.

Okay, tiny baby - keep me awake. You win.