I just witnessed the Sarge fold up a dirty tea towel and put it back in the drawer.
“Darling, that was dirty,” I pointed out (because I’m helpful like that).
His face dropped melodramatically, “Leave me alone, I’m PREGNANT,” he whined.
Oh snap. Smart arse.
It appears I’ve been using this excuse a lot. Because, you know, I am pregnant. With child. Growing a small person, organ by organ.
Is that getting on your nerves, dear husband? Sorrynotsorry for being so annoyingly pregnant WITH YOUR CHILD. I’ll try to grow your daughter a bit more quietly, ok? OKAAAAYYY?
Ok, to be fair, I’m less than useful lately.
I dropped my lunch all over the floor last week, which might have been forgivable except it was the second time in two days I’d done it. Because I’m a moron. But my gorgeous friend Nicola told me it was ‘pregnancy related clumsiness’ because that’s a thing. I love Nicola.
Well that’s one way to toss a salad #freakingidiot #seconddayinarow #Icantbetrustedtocarrythings #hellyesIamstillgoingtoeatit
And I have to admit, I kind of love being able to blame my uselessness on being pregnant. It’s terribly convenient…
Put the cereal back in the fridge. Not my fault, I’m pregnant!
Stared at the wall for 15 minutes trying to remember why I walked into the bedroom. Can’t blame me, I’m pregnant!
Fell asleep on the lounge at 2pm. P.R.E.G.G.E.R.S.
Took the last pancake off my son’s plate and ate it. Don’t give me that look, I’m pregnant!
Spent all day trying to avoid any actual work. Hey, I’m growing a human being here, people. Je suis enceinte. Ich bin schwanger. Estoy embarazada.
But it’s the stupidity that’s really starting to affect me.
I was trying to turn up the radio volume up in the car yesterday and despite repeatedly pressing the ‘up’ button on the steering wheel, the volume wasn’t going up. Then I realised the channel had changed and confusion reigned. WHAT’S GOING ON? Obviously the radio was broken. I started fuming away about the inconvenience of having a faulty radio and whether I’d need to take it in to be looked at. It was a good few minutes before I realised I’d been pressing the seek button instead of the volume.
It wasn’t pressing the wrong button that concerned me. It was the length of time it took to figure out what I was doing wrong. My idiocy shocked me.
I’m trying to remember if I was this stupid when I was pregnant with Thud. But I’m pregnant, so I can’t remember.
I do remember being stunningly tired. I remember mentioning it to the midwife at my obstetrician’s rooms, “Of course you are!” she cried. “You’re working full time, you start at 4am in the morning AND you’re pregnant. You’re not designed to do that!”
The feminist in me felt a bit outraged at the suggestion I was too fragile to be working but she explained that human evolution hasn’t caught up with modern day living and women simply aren’t designed to grow babies and work and clean house and cook and have a social life and have hobbies and relationships etc etc etc.
Women are apparently designed to do a spot of light berry collecting, followed by some casual skinning of whatever beast the man has brought home from his day on the hunt. Traditionally, pregnant women would be put on a bit of bed rest and fussed over by other women in the tribe.
I have no idea if she is right or not, but do you know how badly I want to be a cavewoman right now?
Firstly, I feel like my impressive girth would be considered kinda hot in the social circles of the caves. My double chin would be a sign of my wealth and success and my arse would be admired for its many dimples. My bearskin muumuu would bring all the Neanderthals to the yard.
Secondly, I’d really love it if people expected me to be feeble-minded right now. It’d really take the pressure off. Expecting anything useful from me right now is only going to lead to disappointment.
Thirdly, I’m tired. I don’t want to do things. I want to sit and drink tea and watch pathetic television. My brain doesn’t want to think. My legs don’t want to walk. My hands don’t want to do work.
I think it’s best if everybody just ignores me until this child is out. Just stick me in the corner like a pot plant. Chuck a Tim Tam at me now and then and don’t try to engage in conversation. Definitely don’t let me make important decisions like what I should name my child.
I’m just wondering if anyone is concerned about leaving me home alone with a two year old? No? I’m not sure it’s wise…
Please tell me you felt a bit useless when you were pregnant too….