This is my last week of relaxation, probably ever. It’s the final week in the month before Margot comes that I have no appointments with my midwife, no major shopping trips, no last minute baby items to collect — no major errands at all. I’ll go to my weekly bible study, but that’s it. I’ll be able to sleep in undisturbed until a shameful hour, wear faded leggings and baggy cardigans (my pregnancy uniform), watch old episodes of Lost (Isaac and I are watching the whole series for the first time), and snack all day long. Jealous? Well, hold off on that for now…

First let me backtrack a little –I don’t want to come off as a complete glutton, here (read: that’s not me in the photo above, it’s Yango).

I see that I’m describing pregnant-me like the type of person that gets killed off in the neo-noir thriller ‘Se7en’ over a bowl of Spaghetti, or whatever. For the record, at around 1pm during the day, once my morning noontime breakfast of Honey Nut Cheerios has settled, I do a few chores to ‘earn my keep’. I usually make sure the dishes are done, the bed is made, and the house looks tidy. I’ll dust, vacuum and take out the trash to feed into the illusion that I’m an excellent homemaker and that I’ve had a gloriously productive day. Sometimes, I’ll even put on some blush and mascara, but that’s more of dignity-salvaging activity for me.

Then when my husband comes home, he can see how hard I worked all day, and enjoy the super-difficult pasta dinner I’ve prepared.

A day in the life, folks.

Like I said, this week is the last week where I’ll only have above-mentioned light chores to do. Next week is a horse of another color. I’ve got appointments every single day, and it doesn’t sound fun at all. Carrying around a bowling ball size mass in your abdomen slows you down a lot; every task takes twice as long, and if I’m walking around a lot, Braxton Hicks contractions kick in. Those are getting to be much more painful.

Remember that fat lady you saw panting over a bin of frozen crab at Costco last weekend? She was with a confused-looking man who was holding a crumbled shopping list, and pushing a cart full of snack foods. Well that was me (and my husband), and I’m very pregnant, JSYK, and not totally ‘into that crab’ like you may have thought. I was having a particularly painful contraction and I had to stop where I was until it passed. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and it makes me a little fearful for what’s in store on the big day. Fortunately, they pass quickly and each one brings my Margot nearer. And at this time, I’d appreciate your support for my purchase of 60 Quaker granola bars.

With or without your support for my snack food choices, I need to get back to carpe diem-ing this entire week. I’ve got a couch to reunite myself with during these final relaxation-filled days, the kind of which I may never know again.