June 13, 2011 § 2 Comments
Yesterday was a wet Sunday and I felt like a ten year old who’s mum has suggested she play a board game to help pass the hours. A bit bored and fed up. I even decided to mop the floors at 10pm, that’s how interested I was in the TV schedule, the half finished paper and my newly started book. Then I hardly slept because I was getting pelvic pain (or could it be contractions? Best to sit awake half the night worrying about it) and being generally restless. So today is Monday and this morning I dropped the urchins at the childminder and felt determined to be a bit more positive and less listless.
The fact that I feel guilty about taking the boys to the childminder isn’t a great start. I know that I shouldn’t feel guilty. They are not hanging off my legs crying, in fact when we pull up to her house they squeal her name, and jump up and down in excitement when she tells them about the wet woodland walk she has planned. But I think that maternal guilt thing runs deep.
To cheer myself up a bit I try on the outfit I plan on wearing to the wedding I’m going to on Friday. I look like I’m smuggling a bowling ball up my top but other than that I don’t look too bad. I decide to continue wearing the nice knickers I have selected to wear with the outfit because part of my brain tells me that I’m bound to go into labour if I’m wearing my best knickers (I’m conflicted between desperately no longer wanting to be pregnant, and wanting to go to the wedding at the weekend.)
Finally a walk up to the shops cheers me up. I register that ‘whoa’ expression on at least four people as I walk past them on the street and they clock the bump. Sometimes people just stare incredulously, some give me a little shy smile, but it’s the ‘whoa’ look ones that make me giggle. Like they’ve never seen a heavily pregnant person before, and good god, she’s at the shops, doesn’t she know her waters could break at any minute? The last person that gives me the ‘whoa’ look is one of those annoying charity touts wearing a hi vis jacket and sporting a clipboard. I see the name of a children’s charity emblazoned on the back. She comes towards me smiling and says “can I interest you in signing up for…” I stop her and give her my best pitying glance. “No thanks,” I say straightfaced. “Can’t stand children.” Is this very wrong of me? The look on her face is absolutely priceless.