Lately I've been in a bit of a rut that's called: Only Leaving The House Approximately Once A Week. Ok, I might jaunt out to the laundry room occasionally or even take the dogs for their walk every few times, but I'd say that since this morning sickness kicked in a few weeks ago I've been sequestered to this very tiny house with this very tiny boy every day, and I'm starting to feel a bit flat about that.
On the other hand, how "appetizing" is it to go out and clean rooms when you feel pukey and wretched? Wouldn't you rather lounge around the house and just make sure the kid doesn't put his eyes out on the edges of the coffee table? When your sweet husband can do all the outside work? Of course you would. You might even indulge in a little daytime TV if there was a good movie on. You might eat pretty nearly constantly to keep the nasty feelings away. And then you might decide to vacuum but then get terribly winded and have to sit down holding your aching back. Totally pathetic is the picture I'm trying to paint here, people.
Today I was forced by my bulb-planting-freak of a husband to get out and do some cleaning for some arrivals tomorrow, and it really ended up being the very best thing for me. Got my mind off the nausea and although I didn't feel great, I felt about as bad as I would have on the couch, only not nearly as pathetic. And that makes a big difference.
So, for the health of mind, body and baby, I plan to make more of an effort, get up, get moving, get things done. Queasy stomachs shall not have the power to stop me. Ha. We'll see.