Heavily pregnant single parenting: Day two...

...was longer. 'Cuz, you know, I actually had Small Boy today. And because I'd forgotten that I don't sleep particularly well when Small Boy shares a bed with me. And because last night at about 22:30 he woke up in tears, inconsolable, for reasons neither he nor I were ever able to understand. We called R in Zurich and after much "Choem hai! Choem hai!" from the Small Boy (come home! come home!) R was able to settle him down with a song (I ghörre äs Gloggli das lütet so nätt/Dr Tag isch vergange itz gang i ins Bett/Im Bett tuen i bäte und schlafe de i/Dr lieb Gott im Himmel wird ou bi mir si!)* He then came back to bed with me and slept the rest of the night, but he seemed restless.

I owe getting through the morning today to the kids' corner at our local bakery/cafe and open play time at Gymboree.

I owe getting through the afternoon to our secret unconventional way of tricking Small Boy into taking an afternoon nap (R, you know what I'm talking about. As for the rest of you it just might be too embarrassing to blog, even anonymously) and to the in-laws who are giving him dinner and a sleep-over.

I'm getting a lot of help these days. People who know me know how hard it is for me to ask for help, or to accept unsolicited offers of help. I'm almost feeling guilty over how much help I'm accepting but knowing how much Small Boy loves his grandparents makes it easier to put him on the train. That and I've noticed that since I've started accepting more help the frequency of my contractions has gone from "Uh, yeah, that's not good" to "Eh, whatever" and I haven't had another spotting incident. So I'm going to keep accepting help. Because 36-weekers do well, but 38-weekers do better.

* rough translation:

I hear a bell it chimes so sweet
The day is over now I'm going to bed
In bed I'll pray and then fall asleep
Dear God in heaven will watch over me.