Post a Comment On: Anatomy of a Ladybug

Ok, not really, but these are the things I think about when it's 3am and I'm staring at the ceiling wishing I could just sleep. But seriously? I mean I have days where my two drive me over the edge...But anyway, that's all I'm going to say about that.

Things are going about as well as can be expected for someone who is seriously allergic to pregnancy. We got to hear the baby's heartbeat - 150BPM - this week (and by me, I mean me and Dash who was basically sitting on my head as that was the only way I could keep him quiet enough for the NP to hear the heartbeat) and I scheduled the BIG ultrasound for April 2. I'll be counting down the days as I can't WAIT to find out all about this little monster who is torturing me precious babe.

BUT I do have a few things to bitch about - come on, you know you were waiting for it! Let me first say that I think I'm finally done with the nausea. Thank GOD. But damn, I'm TIRED! I mean, seriously tired. Not just I-have-two-toddlers tired. I feel like I could sleep for days and not feel rested. And that's the worst thing - I can't sleep! You know how you feel on moving day? You know, when you've packed boxes, packed a car, unpacked a car, painted a room and you're finally in bed. When your whole body aches and you wish someone would rub muscles that you never even knew existed? I feel like that EVERY night. I don't remember feeling so crummy this early on with Fin or Dash. As a matter of fact, I don't really remember feeling this bad muscle-wise at the end. I'm also having these weird charlie horses in my upper arms that make it impossible to get at all comfortable. Even my beloved Tylenol PM seems to be waning in it's helpfulness. I'm still waking up at 3am and watching the clock until the kids get up.

And yet, it's the weekend and the hubs is home and taking the brunt of the kids. And all the poopy diapers which makes me love him more than I thought possible. And we have plenty to look forward to. My mother is visiting in a few weeks and has demanded that we go out to dinner. When I told him I'd rather do a 3am Denny's run, he was all for it (yet another reason he is my soul mate). I mean, you can always get a sitter for dinner, but it's not so practical to call one up to come over at that hour, right? And since this will be the last of the little Martins, I think some late-night indulgence is definitely in order. Of course, this attitude could be stemming from the fact that I had to try on three pairs of pants this afternoon to find one that fit. Ok, that's a half-truth. They all "fit", but we were going to lunch so I needed a pair that would still fit after lunch. So now, I surrender to the fat pants. Once I hit maternity, I'm totally cutting lose and buying some twinkies.