I’ve been pregnant for half the time that we’ve lived in this house. Each morning for the past few months, I would wake up with a running list in my head of all the things I would set out to accomplish that day. I can organize the closet! I’ll upholster August’s bed! Paint a room! Strip some wallpaper! Get my office in reasonable order! And then I’d be all, nah, I should sit down and rest. Maybe go to sleep early. Eleanor has her motto, and so do I.
I am getting things done, just not at the pace I’d like to. Painting the walls black downstairs was not fun. Normally I love to paint! My body isn’t dealing well with this pregnancy though — it has been much harder than it was with the other two — and I don’t think I can make it up and down a ladder again right now. I slogged through and I’m glad it’s finished, but I haven’t been eager to repeat the experience.
I’m so glad we hired someone to do the built-in bookshelves for us, because there’s no way that project would be near completion right now if we’d tried to do it ourselves. I’m too stubborn to hire out for a paint job or small projects around the house though, and too much of a perfectionist to ask Brandon to do it (he has been a huge help with the kids and helping run the house, but I’m the handier of the two of us). Some days I feel like I’m finally getting some energy back, but then I’ll have three days in a row where I’m exhausted and in pain. It’s frustrating because I have all of these ideas inside, waiting to be put into action, but I can’t act on them except in short bursts. Maybe soon? I’m being cautiously optimistic.