Feeling Blue

So, the baby—er, the two-year-old—is now two, the bun in the oven is 9/20ths baked (this week’s photo coming soon), my nausea has largely waned, the blessedly uncommercialized holiday known as Thanksgiving is just around the corner, and still I am in a foul (I cannot tell you how badly I wanted to write “fowl”) mood. I’m not sure whether it’s pregnancy hormones, too little sunlight, too little quality Adult Time with my mate, or too much recent and impending Family Togetherness (parents and in-laws and siblings, oh my!), but whatever the cause, the effect is this: I don’t want to write, I don’t want to cook, I don’t want to prepare for the class I’ll be teaching in a little over a month, I definitely don’t want to rake the yard, and lord knows I don’t want to clean the house, though lord also knows I do want the house to be magically clean. All I really want to do is lie on the couch and watch TV shows featuring Rachel Bilson, though I know from experience that will make me feel worse, so I don’t really even want to do that.

When I’m not pregnant and feel this way I usually drink too much coffee and run around doing a zillion mindless errands, getting shit crossed off my to-do list so that when I start feeling better and the creative thoughts resume, I can devote my time to them and not worry that I’m about to run out of toothpaste/deodorant/diapers/cat food. Also, I eat a lot of chocolate.

But without coffee (still smells disgusting) or chocolate (makes my indigestion markedly worse) or my non-pregnancy energy levels (where is my glorious second trimester energy burst?), even the idea of going to Walgreens to replace my mysteriously missing fingernail clippers feels too daunting. And in the rain? No freaking way.

I know this feeling is temporary, that it could pass before the day is even done, but in the meantime, it’s pretty sucky. And what’s worse is not being able to think of a single thing I could do for myself that might help. Because more than anything else, I don’t want to wallow. I wouldn’t even know what I was wallowing in, so there really would be no point.

Photo courtesy alvimann, morgueFile