I cannot adequately explain to you
the depths of my desire to be able to lay on my stomach again.
The lukewarm, evening, cooldown showers have begun.
It is that time of year.
And that time of parasitic tiny human hosting,
I have switched seating positions
at least three times already
in the time it has taken
just to write these thoughts thus far.
I should definitely be packing.
But standing up makes me nauseous.
Or maybe it's the bending over.
Or maybe it's the breathing.
Two weeks sounds a lot better than
Moving Day is terrifying.
Is it considered cheating
if I tend to only do the seated positions
of my yoga dvd sessions?
Like, Mountain pose pro-status yo
but all that triangle business and leaning
and feet pointed outward and such.
My arms get tired so much quicker
than anything else!
Carbs, carbs, carbs.
All day, err day.
So much the crave.
All I want right now are pancakes,
and all the sugary bready goodness.
If I pile enough fruits on top it balances it out,
I keep meaning to move on,
but now I'm stuck on a food rut.
Mark finally felt a real, solid, identifiable kick.
Babe was up in my ribs
(or I guess his feet were?)
and I told Mark to stick his hand there.
Silly fellow gently laid his fingers on my skin
and I grabbed his hand and shoved it down hard,
almost immediately his eyes got wide and
he gasped, "Oh!"
And then, "oh, oh wow" again because
little dude was dancin' on mommy's ribs.
Mommy also cries a lot.
At the drop of a hat.
Or the drop of anything really.
Dropping things is such tiring business.
I think I can feel the second trimester glow fading,
which is a major bummer,
but it also means I'm that much closer
to meeting this munchkin,
and that more than makes up for it.
Still doing great.
All things considered.
Just grateful that "healthy"
seems to be the general consensus with both
babe and momma.
I'll take it.