My due date is two months from today. Does that freak you out as much as it freaks me out?
I learned this weekend that I am a great big wimp. See, I am not the kind of girl who sits around waiting for people to do things for me. I carry things. I fix things. I am very independent and pretty gosh-darn proud of it. Yes, I do occasionally have to have Chris open a jar for me, but for the most part I do my share, whether that means cooking dinner or hauling bags of rocks for the garden.
So this weekend, I was very upset to discover that I had become one of those women who sits around and does nothing while leaving all the hard physical labor to her husband. I had very modest plans. I wanted to weed the flowerbeds and plant some petunias. Piece of cake. Chris, however, decided to implement the major re-landscaping of our front yard that we have been discussing for the past three years. It was a lot of work. A lot of very hard work. I warned him when he brought it up that I couldn't help him dig or move mulch or really be much help at all, but he went for it anyway and got it done and it looks fantastic.
I pulled three weeds and had to take a break. Then I pulled two more and had to take another break. Bending over didn't work. Squatting didn't work. Getting up and down really definitely didn't work. It took me three hours to do what should have taken 30 minutes, and I spent more than half of that time just sitting on the porch refusing to move. Now I have a pulled muscle that requires me to either walk so slowly I drive myself insane or waddle. I'm still trying to decide which is worse. I managed to finish weeding and planted all my flowers, but the most help I gave Chris was pointing to where I thought the azalea should go.
I love being pregnant, I really do, but I am used to being fit and strong and capable and I can't wait to have that back.