It appears that my posts are getting farther between… Yes, I am dragging, but I’m hoping it’s temporary. There is a good reason for my less-than-spectacular energy level right now, and it’s not only because it took me four days to recover from a 24-hour stomach flu. We are officially pregnant, and at 8 weeks, thanks to what must be a mega surge of progesterone, I am officially exhausted.
I remember being this tired at this stage with my first pregnancy, but then, we had no Babyboy yet, so if I wanted to go lie down for a nap before dinner, or turn in for bed right after dinner, Hey! Why not? There were several weeks last year where I was in bed by 7 pm. But now, well, that’s not going to happen.
I got home from a long day of clinic this evening, blessed to have Hubby grilling chicken and veggies for dinner, while my mother had bathed Babyboy. He was all squeaky clean and sweet-smelling in his fleecy pajamas, and I was so glad to see him. I felt super-spoiled as all the major evening duties were being done by people other than me; and super-relieved, as the pregnancy hormones had me dragging, and I hadn’t been sure I had any energy to handle any more work. It was such a nice feeling.
Then, after dinner, I plucked Babyboy out of his high chair to get his bottle ready for bedtime- and I sniffed what smelled like a pretty stinky poopie diaper. I took him upstairs to change him while Hubby cleaned up the dinner dishes. But five minutes later I was calling for backup.
Babyboy had a major blowout, right up to his neck. It was even in his hair… and he’s in this stage right now where he cannot hold still on the diaper-changing table. He rolls. He rolls around and around like a crocodile rolling its prey. Except this time he was rolling in squishy poopie.
“Help!” I called. “Help help!”
Hubby came running. “Good god!” He gasped. At this point, after one minute on the table, there was no surface left unmarked. And Babyboy was giggling.
“I know,” I said. “Do you want to get the bath ready or should I?” And so we tag-teamed a repeat of bathtime, with me on baby-scrubbing duty and Hubby disinfecting the whole diaper-changing table area, including the wall.
Babyboy loves his tubby, and he hates when it ends. So a round of kicking and screaming was followed by another round of rolling around on the (now pristine) diaper-changing table. I wrestled Babyboy into a fresh set of fleecy pajamas and brushed back his curly wet hair.
“OK,” I said. “NOW let’s make a bedtime bottle, and finish cleaning the kitchen…” and so our evening progressed. The whole episode was actually kind of funny, and it only set us back a half and hour or so (we’re really good at impromptu bathtime), but I am just SOOO tired. All day I have wanted to put my head down on any available surface and moan, ‘I am just SOOO tired’, and be able to take a nap. Sigh… 4 more weeks of this stage, if I recall correctly…
It is now the obscenely late hour of 9 pm, and I simply need to wrap up this post, so I can go to bed….