I’m officially bored silly- and its ok
I guess there comes a time in every pregnancy when a woman is simply tired of being pregnant. The aches, sleepless nights, sore feet, lack of energy, and eagerness to finally meet this baby of mine have all combined in such a way that I find myself wishing that time itself would speed up so I can get this over with and move on into the next phase of life- motherhood.
I’m in my last 7 weeks of pregnancy and I’m bored silly. Most days I’m confined to the couch because of contractions, pain, or because Nathan’s kickboxing habit drains me of every ounce of energy and thus the couch becomes both my jailer and my haven. I’ve never been a couch potato and I find it hard to be okay with it now, but I guess it’s just what I have to do at the moment and that is that.
The wonderful summer days toiling in the garden and yard are now a distant memory, especially as fall approaches. My yard has greatly suffered for it and the sight of it drives me up the wall. I wish I had the energy and an unoccupied body for a day so that I can get out there and whip it back into shape before the summer light wanes and the bitter cold returns.
There are tufts of grass (grass!) springing up in the mulched areas and an unchecked weed is currently being admired for it’s little purple flowers. I know the flowers are going to make little weedlings that will be the bane of my existence next summer but… they’re so pretty. So the weed with purple flowers is left to grow and freely propagate to its full heat’s desire. What it doesn’t know is that I am planning on a full-out chemical warfare campaign on all of Mrs. Weed’s future offspring and I’m not telling it. I’ll deal with it next year.
To demonstrate how far I’ve fallen, there is a weed (a weed!) growing in the flowerpot by the front door. I guess I could simply pull it out but then the flowerpot would be barren and a green weed is better than nothing. Yesterday I noticed it was wilting a little and I actually found myself debating on whether or not I should water it. Sighs.
I want a margarita. I’m not even remotely a ‘drinker’ but something about the late-summer heat in a very pregnant body makes me crave one. This pregnant body sweats! It’s gross. I’m not hairy or sweaty or anything else unfeminine by nature. I’m a lady through and through. I like my lotions and baths and long curly hair. I like to smell like gardenias and to hear my heels clicking on the ground as I walk. The tendency not to be sweaty is part of my femininity and I’m proud of it…right out the window it went. Combine it with a gait that is about as graceful as an ox in a tutu and I’m not feeling very womanly or cute at the moment. At all.
I did get to enjoy a wonderful conversation with a mother of 1-year-old twin girls over the weekend and I loved it. She was funny and pleasant and just a great person to talk to. She shared tons of great tips with me and even offered to let me borrow some of her baby things. Her girls were adorable and alarmingly bright. I was perfectly content (a rare phenomenon now days) just sitting in the park talking with her.
There’s just something about motherhood that can bring two people together like none other. I guess we just understand each other. We’ve been through the same ups and downs. We can laugh about the same events because we’ve all been there. No matter how accomplished or sophisticated we all were in our pre-mommy hood days, we’ve all been at the point where a shower and dinner on the table at the end of the day fills us with as much pride as attaining a Master’s degree.
It’s a giant struggle peppered with triumphs. It’s motherhood- plain and simple.