So after crowing about how fabulously normal I have been feeling – the last few days have put a toll on my stamina and made me think that maybe I should be a bit more realistic about what I can or should do at almost 8 months pregnant.
Evil Temptation #1: IKEA
Fred hates IKEA, he has a passionate loathing of the place and almost moans as much about going there as he does the John Lewis on Oxford Street (Peter Jones in Sloane Square is a far superior shopping experience). He objects to being shepherded around IKEA along infinite corridors of doom and has insisted on doing it backwards before now just to rebel (we then had to do it forwards again to get back to the checkouts!).
The trouble was we needed a new chest of drawers from IKEA to go with the one we already had in one wardrobe to create a matching pair and provide some attempt at a storage area for baby clothes (currently sitting in a cardboard box). The idea of embarking on an expedition with Fred filled me with dread, made worse because I wanted to browse the baby stuff too and I could imagine the panic attack that would induce.
So while the cat was away (in Rio and Bordeaux, as you do), I decided to intrepidly set off with my mother in tow to see what we could gather.
In the end, I didn’t get any baby stuff as the only thing I decided I wanted was seemingly lost in the Wembley triangle, but here are the highlights from my point of view:
Baby sleeping bag – Vandring, £12
Cotbed Canopy – Mysig, £8
So what’s so bad about visiting IKEA? To cut a long story long, we decided to purchase the chest of drawers which we managed to get off the shelf and onto the cart between us and even into the car after a good Samaritan helped out. But when we got home, we transitioned it onto the wall of the front garden and I was supposed to wait until Mum got back from dropping our stuff in the flat. But I got bored and decided to follow Mum up the stairs with it, all 34kg of it.
Oh the lectures I got after that! Not just from Mum, but Anna added her consternation at the weekend when I mentioned it.
From looking online, I don’t think it is bad per se for a pregnant woman to carry heavy things occasionally, but there is increased risk of straining yourself and is probably an exertion too far for someone who does not exactly spend her non-pregnant days at the gym pumping iron.
Evil Temptation #2: Roof Terraces
So we are experiencing some good weather at last, and the whole of London is out and about in the sunshine, and especially in the beer gardens and beer roofs (when did this stop being rooves??) of their local establishments.
My brother’s 40th was no exception – hanging out in Shoreditch with the uber-trendy. It started out quite well, keeping myself downstairs in the main room lounging in an armchair, but as the evening wore on it became apparent that the party was on the roof. So that’s where we went! And it was totally packed. So I behaved as I usually would and joined the throng, standing around chatting for an hour and a half.
I did do something vaguely sensible in that we left early (10.30pm) and got some food (at a really cool diner). But by that point it was nearly
midnight and I was knackered (especially given we’d been trawling Oxford Street earlier in the day – Fred only accepting this because I allowed him to go and visit piano shops while I pottered between Mothercare and John Lewis).
Then the tube was packed and I couldn’t get a seat (I didn’t really fancy chucking the drunk girl who was threatening to throw up out of her seat). So I perched on one of the perching bars and felt sorry for myself and exhausted. Then someone stamped on my foot. That was it – the waterworks were on, like an overtired kid they would not stop – so I blubbered most of the way home sitting on my perch.
So after these two incidents, I should probably not be surprised that my back has been aching more and I have generally felt more tired (and sorry for myself).
If I am to have any energy to cope with the sleepless nights that will accompany a newborn then I will have to know my limits for the next month or so. And that probably means going to bed before 1am, and maybe not sprinting for the bus, or staying in work till 10pm…
Perhaps a personality transplant would be easier!