Sunday, July 3, 2011

Discovering why every day should be Saturday.

I love the weekend in a passionate, desperate sort of way that I haven’t felt since I was in school. The weekend means my husband is home, and there is someone who will do more than stare blankly at me when I speak to them. Today was a pretty nice Saturday. It didn’t officially start for me until nearly two in the afternoon, as Husband is prone to taking the baby out on epic walks around town. Today, they strolled seven miles. Seven! I got to sleep in, uninterrupted, for HOURS. Finally, Husband called to see if I was alive, and I decided it was probably a good idea to get myself out of bed. I felt so good that I got up and vacuumed the apartment.

Later, I finally had time to get something done that I had been dreaming of since I was pregnant: Go through all the pre-pregnancy clothes that I had banished to sit in bags in my closet, AND bag all my hideous maternity clothes. Husband seemed to be inspired by my efforts, and he went through his closet, as well. The evening was spent playing episode after episode of Battlestar Galactica on Netflix while our son slept peacefully through the sounds of gunfire and explosions (I swear, he will be in therapy one day with memories of being in a war zone) and his parents frowned at themselves in the mirror over the clothes that somehow shrank three or four sizes. How did that happen, again? Oh yeah, perhaps the buckets of sugar and salt I ate for nine months. I craved anything sweet or salty, both at once was even better (ahem, chocolate covered pretzels). Luckily, I did uncover a handful of shirts that I can wear in public without looking like I’m still pregnant. Strangely enough, putting away my maternity clothes was not the big victory I always dreamed it would be. In fact, I felt a twinge of sadness as I bagged the shirts I watched my belly grow in, and eventually grow out of. My last few weeks of pregnancy were like a long practical joke from the universe. I got so big, not even extra large maternity clothes fit me.

Here I am, at 41 weeks. This shirt used to extend over my belly just a week before.

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