Just Hitting The Wall

My third trimester is quickly approaching and I have to admit, things are not too bad. My all-day sickness is waning (I think) and I am slowly (very slowly) trying to wean myself off of the Zofran. I've done only a half a dose every night for the last 3 nights and so far so good. Woo-hoo! My lower back and hips aren't giving me near the trouble they did with Hope and I can still walk and get off the couch relatively easy these days (mostly thanks to my once a week chiro appointments - have I said I love my chiros?). For what it's worth, I feel pretty doggone good.

But, let me tell you, while I'm doing really well in most areas, there is one problematic area.

The Wall. I've hit it.

I'm exhausted.

It stinks.

I didn't used to like admitting that I was getting older, but as I was telling a friend the other day...
I'm old and pregnant. Yes, I said it. I'm admitting my limitations (and my age) and realizing that the get up and go I had in my twenties has frankly, got up and went.

The forty five pounds I lost after Hope was born has been a tremendous advantage in this pregnancy. And truthfully, I've felt better in this pregnancy than I have in the last three. But let's face it, I haven't chased a 14 month old around AND been pregnant since I was 24.

In case you need the math...that was 15 years ago.

I am a much more patient mother now than I was then and I don't nearly get so wrapped up in the little things (like perfectly coiffed baby girl hair with giant bows) like I used to. My zest for life and a good laugh is still as nutty as it ever was. There's only one really distinct difference now.

I'm tired. This would be The Wall.

And that's the bare bones truth about it. I can't deny it any longer. If I don't sleep well at night, and I don't sleep well at night, I don't do well the following morning, afternoon day. I no longer have that bounce. (You know the one. ..when you're younger and can survive for a few days on no sleep and a little Mountain Dew and it doesn't phase you) When 2:00 in the afternoon rolls around, all I want is my couch and my eyes in the shut position. And some chocolate.

And that's another thing (the chocolate, that is). I'm finding that as my energy wanes, my desire to consume junk increases. My cravings for chocolate and the occasional Coke are ferocious these days and I know it's because I need a quick boost. I also know those quick boosts give way to extreme crashes later. There's really no excuse for eating junk really~ other than the fact that a good, old fashioned Ding Dong just sounds good sometimes. But for the sake of The Corn Nut and my own health, I really do need to refrain.

My cooking is starting to suffer as well. Or maybe I should say, the lack thereof. Dinners have to be simple and my go-to dinner lately is french toast and bacon. Hey, it works. I'm buying more convenience foods right now and my while my desire to feed my family healthier, natural foods is still as strong as it ever was, my desire to shove some frozen, hydrogenated concoction into the oven and go lay on the couch is stronger.

Just trying to be real here, people.

I'm really trying to cut myself some slack because after all, I am in fact, pregnant (and old). I realize that things aren't going to be the same for a long while (even after The Corn Nut arrives) and practically speaking, that should be okay. But for some reason mommas are the hardest on themselves when it comes to cutting somebody some slack.

So, what do I do?

Well, since I've already hit The Wall and I'm already laying here on my back, dazed and a little confused, I think I'll just stay here.

Yep. I'll stay here and not mind the house being a little messier (not a lot, just a little).

I'll enjoy feeling the miraculous bumps and kicks inside of me that make me fiercly love this baby already.

I'll watch and enjoy the sweet antics of my adorable Hope as she goes from babyhood into toddlerhood.

I'll laugh as Liv says or does something that is SO TOTALLY her.

I'll let Sis be the huge help that she is and praise her for folding clothes or washing dishes and watch her grin with accomplishment.

I'll cave as Madgirl begs me to help straighten her hair or watch a movie with her.

I'll enjoy going to The Boy's varsity football games and tell him that yes, he is an AWESOME deep snapper.

And I'll sit on the couch, next to my sweet hubby, watching college football, while he pats my fat belly trying to feel a kick or two.

Actually, The Wall might not be so bad after all.

Could somebody pass me a Ding Dong?