Yesterday evening I was meant to attend a party---one I was really excited about, Art Night at my pal Kristen's house. Kristen throws these parties from time to time, evenings of chit-chat, snacks, and art making. I've been wanting to go for ages, but yesterday was the first time my schedule was free for it.
I woke up early yesterday. Shook loose the discomforts of sleeping with a volleyball stomach. Felt great after a few stretches. A slight throat tickle, but nothing to be alarmed about. Walked to the gym. Had a great work out. Walked to drugstore for toothpaste. Gave change to homeless man who told me that I'd give birth to a cherub because I was an angel fallen from heaven. Called my mom on walk home. Lunch! Chipped away at re-organizing the house to carve out a little room for Little Foot. Walked to get groceries with Shaun and the old lady cart. Came home. Cooked dinner. Collapsed.
I'd done just done what would usually be normal for me on a day off, but somehow it seemed like I'd hiked 20 miles up a mountain. With chains around my ankles, carrying a mattress. I'd done too much. I thought that if I just stretched out on the couch for a bit, I'd get over my exhaustion in time for the party. But that's when Fetal Friend went feral.
She does this sometimes, the Fetal Friend. She gets hyped up over life, just at the moment when I need to rest. It's like, she's grooving on the constant motion of my body and the instant I stop she gets all, "hey! HEY! Why did we stop? Come on, lady. Mush! MUSH!" Either that or growing brain wrinkles and fat must be something seriously thrilling.
Don't get me wrong: I'm all for the fetal excitement. But when someone is super pumped and they LIVE INSIDE OF YOU, the feeling can resemble having a can of pinto beans chucked at your kidneys. After an hour of non-stop ninja action, I was more tired than ever. Shoveling cottage cheese into my mouth and watching True Blood on DVD was about all I could muster. And even that was taxing. Art Night was out of the question. I was a party pooper. Shaun was nice and stayed home to poop the party with me.
It was a nice evening at home, but still. It sucked to realize that this was probably just one of many social outings that wouldn't come to fruition. Because pregnancy can kick your ass. And after, kids get sick. Sitters flake. Schedules become critical, especially when something eats from your boob. And as much as I'm sure Little Foot would be welcome at Art Nite, the same is not true for all parties.
I'm not saying that I'm preparing for my life to be over or anything. In a life where family is far from us, our friends become our day-to-day support system. We are lucky enough to have friends as strong as that here. But there will be many concessions---probably much more than there is even a point to imagine.
________________________________________________________________________________When is the last time exhaustion stopped you in your tracks?
Comments (1)
it will simply make it all the more awesome for everyone when you can make it. your social life is not over. and you'll have interesting things to talk about when you do go out!!
btw - i agree with the homeless man. ;)