A brief bout of the narcolepsy

I never got tired in the first trimester. I mean, I got tired like a normal person, but I didn’t get special-pregnancy-tired. If other pregnant ladies had known I was pregnant, they might have quite probably found me annoying, what with my carrying on with life, hosting dinner parties, and being semi-productive, all whilst growing a tiny baby. (Important to note: my productivity level tops out at “semi,” so that was just me, not the baby.)

And now, as I’m cruising along in the second half of pregnancy, suddenly... I feel the urge to nap, like, kind of a lot. And my exercise efforts? Pathetic. I did get in my walking this week, so that was 16 miles of non-patheticness, but have I really become someone who counts walking as exercise? Apparently I have. But then I think about it and wonder if the baby can really be said to have its own energy yet? Or is it all really my energy? Such that I am so tired from all the intrauterine acrobatics? Makes you think, doesn’t it though?

This morning, Jasper descended to the bowels of the house, to complete his earthquake-retrofitting. I whined, oh how I whined, that he should stay in bed, or at least lounge lazily and I would whip up some coffee and muffins. That man is not to be dissuaded when an item that needs doing remains on his to-do list.

No, I did not head straight for the couch. I have more pride than that. I first fed and watered the baby. Then I swept Reese’s fuzz off the floors. Then I put on some 90s dance tunes and cleaned both bathrooms. Then I wrote the thank-you notes to all the lovely people who have given Baby Halekas gifts. I also took this opportunity to teach Baby H about how we write thank-you notes. Constructive morning, people.

Only then did I slip into a half dozing state of Saturday-afternoon couch snooziness, while one Rizzle the Dizz draped himself indulgently across my legs, where he would be perfectly positioned for some neck scritchins.

And that is where Jasper found us when he returned from the house’s bowels. He muttered, “That’s just embarrassing...” I like to think he was referring only to the actions of our weasel-badger of a dog, and not to the apparent laziness of his adorable, pregnant wife who is doing a bang-up job growing his adorable, hyperactive baby.

We can’t be sure, so I was quick to enumerate all of my productive morning activities and then I told him that he should probably take me out for a cheeseburger tonight. He agreed, and told me he finished the retrofit. So I agreed to take him out for a cheeseburger too.

That’s right. Date night. We might hit the Babies R Us first.