This weekend, I achieved the following pregnancy milestones:
1. The cashiers at the grocery store asked me if I wanted help putting stuff in my car.
2. I did.
3. Near constant back pain. In fact, hold on while I rearrange myself on the couch because ow.
3a. There. That's better. Wait, no it isn't. There is no better.
4. I can no longer bear to walk to church (not far).
5. Seriously, my back really hurts.
Andrew returns to work tomorrow, along with the rest of the world, and I'm a smidgen worried about how I'm going to get through the days without dying. Meanwhile, I'm not even at 40 weeks for three more days, but I'm mentally preparing myself for having this baby at 42 weeks because I just feel like I'm doomed that way. Did I ever tell you I was personally three weeks late? THREE WEEKS. And I'm the youngest of six, so my mother was 43 weeks pregnant with five other children at home, ranging in age from 11 to 2.5.
Let's pause here, and raise a glass to my poor mother. Three weeks late, folks. I said to her this weekend that I don't know how she did it, and she said, "Well, I cried a lot."
But I shall change the subject and discuss the holiday weekend, which was actually quite nice until the back pain kicked in yesterday. Wednesday was a bust because of a variety of things, including Andrew going to bed for the night at about 5pm thanks to a fever, but we did manage to take the kids to see The Muppets on Friday. I had been very concerned that I would not get to see it until it comes out on DVD because of this here baby, but we made it! We even found a 10am showing which was very promising since we figured Nora would be able to stay awake for the whole thing! HA HA HA! We are adorably naive. She enjoyed the Toy Story short at the beginning and then asked if it was over. About halfway through the movie, she started whining kind of a lot and asked to go home, but we are terrible, awful, selfish people, and made her stay. In our defense, Jack - and, fine, WE - were enjoying it immensely, and we only had one car, so it wouldn't really have been fair to make Jack leave. Or us. We did take her out for walks, though, and then she climbed into my lap and went to sleep.
Andrew and I are both very relieved that Jack liked it, because we would clearly have had to disown him. And Nora at least liked the singing chickens, so there's that.
And that's all I have in me because I need to lie down. WOE WOE WOE IS ME.