So Christmas has officially been and gone! It’s been a funny one this year, largely because it’s the first year in a long time that Christmas celebrations haven’t been associated with a wine headache. I also didn’t feel massively in the festive spirit. I’m not sure whether that’s just part of getting older, or whether it’s because I’m actually counting down to something else exciting that will be happening in a few weeks time….
In either case, Christmas has been a great time to see my friends and family, nap a lot, eat too much yummy food and replenish my sock supply.
I also realised that there are zero photos of me and Neil taken with me in my current bumpy state. We rectified this with a cheesy shot in front of my parent’s Christmas tree (our cat-mauled B&Q basics tree didn’t quite cut it). And yes, I am wearing the same dress as I am in my 30 week photo. I have about 4 dresses I wear on rotation these days, whatevs.
And here’s a bonus pic of our Northern family Christmas day lunch:
I’m afraid I’m beginning to feel a bit like a fraudster. I have no pregnancy mopes and groans to complain about this week. I now feel a bit like I’ve been pregnant for so long, I can’t really remember what it’s like NOT to be pregnant. I’m also (touch wood) getting in to the swing of things. The end is looming ever closer, and although I’m really looking forward to actually meeting the little person I’ve been growing over the last 8 months, I’m also not quite done with the whole ‘being pregnant’ thing. I have the odd couple of days, which I have come to associate with having a growth spurt, where I feel stretched and massive and all off-balance, but the rest of the time, it’s actually pretty OK. I love my bed nest constructed out of pillows and spare duvets, and I love that no-one even bats and eyelid when I pack it in to the back of the car when going to stay with other people, because I’m pregnant, therefore, any and all diva-ish behaviour is accepted, no questions asked.
FYI, this also goes for: napping, wearing comfy clothes, going to bed at 8pm, being a cowbag in general, eating too much, making new year’s eve plans that involve a sofa, a husband and an ungodly amount of snacks, and not emptying the dishwasher.
In fact, I think I’m going to miss this whole ‘being pregnant’ malarky more than a little bit…