A Little Lot of Shut Eye

If you happen to have wondered where I've been lately, the most likely answer is sleeping.

I cannot keep my eyes open to save my life.

Last week, Chris, Park and I were coming home from an evening with friends at around 7:00 PM. One minute Chris and I were in the middle of a great conversation and then the next thing I remember is him waking me up in our driveway 45 minutes later.

Narcolepsy, I tell you.

And this is really odd for someone who usually has to have her teeth brushed, face, washed, mask on, and pillows fluffed accordingly, just to have a chance at falling asleep within the hour.

Not to mention that every time I lay down with Park to read books, I end up reading the back of my eyelids, instead. And by God's mercy Park has been taking more naps, too, probably because he'd have to crawl over his sleeping mommy to have a chance at escaping his bed.

Clearly I should have tried this strategy sooner.

But all that to say, I'll take sleepiness over queasiness any day of the weak. With the exception of some waves of nausea here and there, I am very blessed in the morning sickness department. (Well, technically early mornings have always made me sick, pregnant or not.)

However, let me warn anyone willing to listen about taking your child to the rodeo during the first trimester of pregnancy.

One whiff of the air upon entering the arena sent this little cowgirl into dry heaves for the remainder of the festivities. It wasn't pretty, but I was able to manage long enough to see the final bull rides.

Even if I had to bury my nose in my shirt to do so.

When purchasing their tickets, the poor people next to us had no idea what kind of show they were actually in store for. Perhaps rodeo attendees should push for a refund clause in the off chance you are seated next to a hurling, shirt sniffing, drama mama.

On the up side, Park didn't seem to mind my misery a bit, even pausing his "YEE HAW!" periodically to slam pat me on the head. And Chris was gracious enough to hide his grins with his hands, although I did faintly hear some snickering between dry heaves.

At least my rodeo debt is paid, unlike Chris who is still having to play the calf, while Park chases him on a stick horse before mercilessly roping him to the ground.

How's that snickering working for you now, hubs?

So, all in all, I'm alive and well, thankful beyond words for my waves of nausea and narcoleptic tendencies. I'm heading into my ninth week of pregnancy and not taking one minute of it for granted.

Even if I have to bury my nose in my shirt every now and then to do so.