I admit this pregnancy is positively crawling along.
I'm tired. Dog tired. Pregnant at 33 is a heck of a lot different than pregnant at 25. Perhaps it's my age or perhaps it's simply the fact that I have three lovelies to chase around all day long. Any way you slice it, I'm tired.
Or it could be that I have successfully (well, mostly) kicked my caffeine habit for the time being. (Except a couple of nights ago when I absolutely went crazy and had a lovely cup of coffee with dinner and found myself still wide awake playing Yahtzee on my Kindle at 2:30 am. Bad choice.)
New rule. If I must cave to the caffeine, it must occur before noon. Period. No exceptions. End of story.
I have been waiting for that mythical second trimester energy boost to kick in.
Mythical, I tell you.
The good news is that after eight days of a nasty virus making the rounds here at home, we are finally well. Finally.
And I am nesting. Early, I know, but nesting just the same. I cleaned the rugs, scrubbed and polished the wood floors, reorganized the utility room and the pantry, and formulated a plan of attack for the rest of the house.
Come to think of it... maybe that's why I'm so tired.
Love & Coffee.
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