Hello, third trimester, we meet again

As of today, I am officially in my third trimester, and I figured since I haven't done a pregnancy update in forever I might as well do one today. 

I haven't quite hit the huge as a house state yet but definitely have reached the point where it is getting harder to get up and about. Or maybe I'm just getting lazier. Sciatica has hit with a vengeance and I'm sure it's exacerbated by lugging around 20 lbs of toddler. Heartburn has re-emerged but so far not as bad as with Ella. Jim is being squished further and further to the edge of the bed and has to share not only with me but with my gigantic body pillow. 

All in all, though, I feel like I have more energy than I did when I was pregnant with Ella. Then again, I'm only chasing a toddler all day, not TAing/working/finishing up a Master's degree.  

I'm craving Indian food like nothing else. I probably could eat it every night of the week and be happy. Unfortunately I don't have the energy to cook Indian dishes every night. But tonight I had the brilliant idea of freezing some leftover bean masala so I can satisfy my craving without having to cook. Because honestly, by the time 4PM rolls around all motivation to cook is pretty much lost. Although that's not exclusively a pregnant thing. 

The fun hormonal freak outs over having a baby have returned. I seriously don't remember having them with Ella but Jim assures me that I would randomly flip out about how I was not ready to have a baby yet with her too. This pregnancy it's more of a freak out over how I'm not ready to have two kids yet and don't you know that this house doesn't clean itself and everything must be organized before this baby comes else the world is coming to an end. The nesting thing is new to me because I never felt the slightest inkling to nest with Ella but with Schrodinger I have an insatiable desire to scrub cabinets. 

And now, by popular demand (okay, by a demand), here is a bump picture for your viewing pleasure. 

Don't mind the box with beer brewing in the background. Or mini Hugh Hefner rifling through my drawers. She refused to wear anything but a bathrobe this morning.