I only have one Monday left this year when I will have to go to work. I think that's pretty sweet. I have eight full workdays remaining for this calendar year. And believe me, they're going to be very full.
The thing is, I keep forgetting that I wasn't working during this point in my pregnancy with Gigi. I was on leave, at "home" in North America, though far from relaxed. We were buying and moving into a house. International moves are tiring and stressful enough; try it sometime when you're eight months pregnant. Ugh. So even though I could lie down in the middle of the day, I didn't feel particularly well-rested.
Now, I'm working 40 hours a week, ferrying a two-year-old to pre-preschool, trying to keep my house from looking like downtown Basra, and still attempting to unpack the occasional box. Oh, and gestating full-time 24-7. It's a wonder I'm upright most of the day. It's a wonder I'm upright at this moment.
Fortunately, I have a husband who cooks and who doesn't especially care if there is toddler paraphernalia embedded in the carpet of every room in the house. I also have a daughter who can be persuaded to make a game of picking up books and toys - though she's not fooled for long. She also likes to play with the broom. Let's hope that behavior continues after she makes the transition to Big Sister.