33 weeks

Some days I chase Porter and walk Sherm and clean the whole house without giving this pregnancy a second thought. And then there are days like today. Days where I unload the dishwasher and have to sit down on the cold kitchen tiles midway through just to catch my breath. I am 33 weeks pregnant and have officially met that mark where I actually feel 33 weeks pregnant. The shortness of breath and the difficulty completing little every day tasks that used to be so simple. Like bringing up a load of laundry from the basement. Which usually ends with me {accidentally} dropping it on Dan's toes while he's sitting on the couch watching football. Ooopsie. Just my nonchalant way of asking if he'll pretty please do the folding. ;) Not to mention, I keep running into walls with my giant belly. Which is why Dan has recently started calling me "belly." Not Tiff, not sweetie, not honey, just "belly." I think it's time to hunker down and take a few extra naps. The belly says so.