Late pregnancy frustrations

This had better not come back to bite me in the butt one day, but I hope I stay able-bodied and independent for the rest of my life.  I know, you're thinking, "That's a pretty obvious thing to say, Steph."  And I don't want anyone reading this to think that I'm not excited about our daughter's impending arrival.  I have never wanted something more in my life.  Being a mom is a title I've wanted for a long time.
I'm getting to that point in pregnancy where it's getting harder and harder to do stuff on my own or without a lot of rest before hand, and for someone as independent as I am, it's really frustrating.
I'll be 34 weeks tomorrow, and I know I've only got a few more weeks.  But it's going to be a long few weeks, I feel.
The day I can't fit behind the wheel I think will be hardest.  I'm doing good so far, but even the short five-minute drive to The News Messenger is getting taxing.  Not because I'm exhausted, but because the baby likes to jam her butt under my ribs when I get behind the wheel for some reason.  Try sitting up straight to see over the dash when you're already short but have something that is demanding you be reclined.  I can't even sit on the couch to watch TV because of where she likes to hang out, I usually have to lay down.  She's cooperating right now as I write this.  And I sound like a mean mommy by complaining about where she likes to hang out, which makes me feel bad.  I just wish I had more real estate to offer her right now.
I like being able to drive around town and go to the library or Target or wherever else on my day off, and that's getting harder and harder.  Going to my friend's shower in Granite Bay last Saturday was so taxing I was K'O'd on the couch for the rest of the night.
I have at least three more Tuesday night meetings to cover until I go out on leave.  My crappy abdomen real estate makes that a chore, too.  Last Tuesday at City Council, I tried sitting to type, but I felt like a T-Rex, because I'd find a comfy position and then butt would go in ribs again, so I'd have to sit bolt upright but that would mean not reaching my laptop's keyboard.  Finally I just slouched and dealt with the uncomfiness for a couple minutes until she chose to not stick her tush in the air.  I even tried hooking the chair in front of me with my foot, sliding it closer and putting my feet up.  That offered temporary relief.  Eventually I took up my post standing in the back of the Pavilion to type, but then my feet started to swell and hurt so I had to go back to sitting.  I guess the police chief noticed my antics because he asked how I was holding up at the end of the meeting and said it was entertaining to watch me find the most comfortable position to take notes in.  And I'm only getting bigger from here, folks.  I want to cry thinking about how I'm going to survive the next few Tuesday night meetings.
I'm dreading going to a local museum to interview the executive director for a story, because I know it's going to take longer than it should because some of the docents are going to sideline me and want to talk about my pregnancy/the baby.  And it's not that I don't want to talk about it.  It's that I have work to do and don't have an hour to shoot the breeze when I've got six other stories in the hopper for the following week.  But I need to be polite, so I'm faced with a conundrum.  And this happens all the time.  I'll be on assignment and people will want to talk about what's going on in my uterus, but I'm working for goodness sake!!  Just because I"m prego doesn't mean I can just totally slack off and not get my other stuff done.
But I want to slack off.  I'm tired.  I'm huge.  Halfway through the day, I just want to take a nap.  But I also don't want to stop working yet.  
When it comes down to it, I'm just not used to being physically limited, and it's really hard for me to not be able to do more and more stuff.  I know it's just the beginning of what's to come.  I know that I won't be able to go out on Friday and Saturday nights like I'm used to, and that's fine.  Because I'm really excited to be a mom.  
It's just hard being physically limited, like having to go to bed early or not being able to drive far distances or needing to lay down and rest more often.  I know out social lives and sleep schedules will be limited, and that will be hard, but extremely rewarding.  But being physically restricted is hardest because I like being able to do things for myself, like putting groceries away or even grocery shopping without having to pee three times while there.  Or not being able to wash dishes, load the dishwasher, fold laundry or cook dinner because I'm having Braxton Hicks and have to lay down.
I had no idea late pregnancy would be such a challenge.  This gives me all the more reason to hit the gym on a regular basis after she's born so that I am in shape and won't be at risk for health problems that could physically limit me later in life, like heart disease, diabetes or obesity.  Because if I can't take six weeks of being limited like this, I sure as heck couldn't handle the rest of my life in a similar fashion.

Feathers

Not sure if this could be considered nesting, but I had a burst of energy to conquer a couple of projects around the house tonight even though it's Wednesday and I'm usually beat.  I was tired when I got home but suddenly was overcome with the need to do the following:

• Sanitize and put away all 10 pacifiers we received at last weekend's baby shower.
• Completely take apart and wipe down with Lysol wipes the hand-me-down high chair we recently received.
• Wash receiving blankets and the aforementioned high chair cushion.
• Organize diapers in the baby's closet with the newborn ones the most easily accessible.

• Fight the urge to drive to Target and purchase a hamper and laundry detergent for the baby's clothing so I can start washing it. 
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It doesn't help that I've had numerous people tell me they think I'm going to be early because of my height.  But if my height was a factor, wouldn't I look 12 months prego by now?  Come on, peeps.
Regardless, being 32 weeks is just a reminder that I've only got five to go until the baby is considered full term.  I feel like we're running out of time to get stuff done, but then again, she has a place to sleep, clothing, a place to have a diaper change, food and two parents who can't wait to meet her.   What more could she want or need?