Lately, my middle name is Rip Van Winkle. I am sleeping ALL THE TIME. If I wasn’t pregnant I’d swear I was narcoleptic. Of course, I’m not complaining, I haven’t had any morning sickness and I can’t say I mind getting some ZZZs. But I just feel so darn lazy. I find that there are days when I go to bed in the same pajamas I’ve worn all day. I guess the up side is that I’m not doing as much laundry.
I’ve been using our bed as my command center. I conduct 99% of my business from under the duvet. Typing my column? In bed. Checking email? In bed. Painting my nails? In bed. Talking on the phone? In bed. If I didn’t have to pee 20 times per day I’d probably never leave (and even then, I’ve considered Depends, but decided that would be a new low). Ollie’s my little mini-sloth, in the morning he gets out of his crib to only want to hop into bed with me for storybook time. I keep a stash of cereal on my nightstand, so really, there’s no reason to leave until it’s time for lunch.
I’m sure the fact that I’m totally off of all caffeine has something to do with my sudden round-the-clock exhaustion too, but I think the majority of it is due to just a good old fashioned bun in the oven. Making another person is hard work — even if that person is no bigger than a lentil bean.