To sleep or to pass out?

Last night was groundbreaking. It was the first night since I gave birth to Ethan that he only woke up once. He went to bed at 9 p.m. and woke up at 4:15 a.m. then went back to sleep after I fed him and woke up at 8:30 a.m. I woke up and felt like I could run a marathon.

Speaking of being able to run marathons, I am so out of shape that I can't even walk up our hill. We live at the top of a hill above a shopping center and I always go on walks down to the shops and look around then hike back up. It's really not that far or even that steep. It was obviously too much for me yesterday, however, as I came this close (my thumb and pointer finger and less than a centimeter apart right now) to passing out as I reached my front door.

It was hot out - very hot. And humid. I felt fine all the way up the hill, but as I was crossing the street to get to the front door of my apartment building, things began to go dark. I knew I was going to go down if I didn't sit down and so I stumbled to the front steps, sat down and put my head between my legs. I briefly looked up to check on Ethan and, luckily, he was snoozing. I had to sit there for about five minutes. I got up, got inside the door, then had to sit down again for what seemed like another five minutes.

So here I am - sitting in the front lobby of my building - with my head between my legs. I was also sweating like a pig. When people walked by, I grabbed The Wall Street Journal sitting there (which just happened to be ours) and acted like I was reading it real close.

Finally, I walked to the elevator, but got woozy again and had to put my head down. I kept my head down all the way to my door, then, once inside, crawled onto the couch and laid there for about 20 minutes before I felt OK enough to stand up.

I need to exercise more.