80 is the magic number

This preganancy is both easier and harder than the last one. So far, it has been easier because I know what to expect from myself. For instance, when I wake up nauseated at night, I need to eat saltines. I need to swim at least twice a week. I'm also more active, what with the lifting/carrying/twisting/walking around the block/swing pushing/dancing that goes on with a toddler, which means I don't need as much yoga. Sleeping makes everything better.

But sleeping is not as easy when I'm watching a toddler for many hours a week, who gets up some mornings at 6:30, who has become very adept at napping when I am not home. I was feeling like I was getting a ton of stuff done because I was past the 11 hours of sleep per day phase - nothing like getting 3 extra hours back per day! - but I'm starting to need more sleep again. Hrmph. And I have a lot of writing to get done in the next month.

And it turns out that 80 is the magic temperature at which I start swelling. Third trimester during the summer was a bad plan, I can tell already. It isn't even June and it is 80. It has been the strangest spring with wild fluctuations in temperature - things bloomed out of sequence, or bloomed and then melted in the heat, or bloomed and them melted in the cold. I swear my lilies of the valley bloomed for all of 2 minutes. We are all Poofed. I guess I'll need to learn to haul out the kiddie pool instead of slowly walking around the block with Turing while looking at every other stick and buried-electrical-line flag.