how far? really?

In my first trimester, had you come up to me and asked me how far along I was, I could pretty much tell you to the minute.  I was so sick and exhausted that I was literally counting.down.the.days until it would hopefully be over.  The sickness actually faded around 11 weeks, and the exhaustion about a week ago.

And when I stopped to calculate how far along I really am, I realized I didn't know.  I had to look it up.  I guess that's what happens when it's baby #3.  After I discovered that I am, in fact, 16 weeks & 5 days, I got a little nervous.  I'm going to have a (another) baby and he/she is going to be here before I know it!  My brother gets married in September, and then we'll have Halloween and football to keep us busy.  Thanksgiving will be right around the corner, and then Christmas!  And I'm due right after Christmas!  Like, the I'll-be-lucky-if-I-don't-go-into-labor-on-the-25th-of-December kind of due.  See, now you're nervous too.

On a less nervous note, it's been am-aze-balls to have my energy back.  I went to the library and went straight to the cookbooks and not the baby names books. (P.S. I hate the baby names books.  They have only worsened the situation by giving me millions of stupid names to choose from, and making me feel more nervous than ever that I will never find one because if I can't find a name in a book filled with 35,000 of them, something must be wrong.)  And....breathe.  Back to recipes.  Wonderful, amazing, recipes.  Have I told you I LOVE to cook?  In the last week I've made breakfast burritos (that I froze, and can be reheated whenever you choose), grapefruit popsicles (where we squeezed 6 giant grapefruits to get the juice we needed), brown sugar twists, taco pizza, and homemade salsa with tomatoes from the garden.  It feels good I tell you.  Good for my soul.

But.  After this is all done.  I can't.  Let myself.  Sit down.  Because I'll never stand back up.

All of my exhaustion that I should have been feeling all day catches up to me in one fell swoop and I crash.

Which is fine.

Because I still feel good.  And I'm glad I feel like cooking again. 

Now, what's for dinner?