Pooped

This is hard to admit, but I am tired.

For the past couple of months I've been swept up in a swirl of extra energy and creativity, which has buoyed me during the hottest part of summer, but lately I've come to realize that phase is over. I'm losing momentum.

I'd like to think of myself as that effervescent, enthusiastic mother of all mothers from back in July and August, who was bouncing a two-year-old on one hip, while pushing a 4-year-old in a swing, all the while growing a thriving fetus in my womb. But now my body is calling on me to set some limits.

I had to tell L that I needed a break after the fourth underdog on the swings today. I find myself encouraging C to use his own feet to get from place to place a little more often. And Tiny Baby is starting to act like it wants to break out and join the fun, 'now please.'

These days, my belly gets tight after a couple blocks of brisk walking, and by mid afternoon, I can barely manage lunch, snuggling C down for rest and getting through a chapter of a library book with L, when I start to doze. I simply can't get enough sleep these days nor can I consume enough food for that matter.

I've been telling friends that I feel like I'm trudging through about six inches of mud all week long. All this is happening when our fall schedule is kicking in and our weeks are fuller than they've been in months. Then there are the three remaining months of gestation still ahead.

Perhaps it's time to lower my expectations. Maybe I ought to stop thinking about the sewing projects I've been meaning to get to, or the early Christmas planning I thought was such a good idea. And if I don't get through those homeschooling books before they're due back to the library, I can just write down the titles and get back to them later.

So here's my new tack. My new goals for this season are as follows:

1. Keep my family happy and healthy.
2. Find a new home.
3. Eat and sleep.

I'm also thinking of ways to make pajama pants a suitable part of my daily going-out wardrobe.