Wow, it’s been a while. Sorry about that. My excuse is that I am spending most of my time being pregnant, and for that, read: sleeping. I keep waiting for the full-of-energy part that I have been promised, but it’ s eluding me so far. I’m like a sleep junkie. I squeeze it in before dinner, I fill weekend afternoons with it, and it calls to me long before the clock strikes 10pm each night.
I have managed to keep up some semblance of normal life. We went to a very elegant wedding this weekend (but left at 10.30) ; I have been meeting up with friends (but generally during afternoons/early evenings); and of course, much as I’d like to start my maternity leave now, I can’t, so I still have to go to work. Sometimes I consider locking myself in the disabled loo at work and curling up in the corner for a snooze. But that would be gross, and also, not fair to anyone who actually needs to use the loo.
I have also managed to drag my ass to pregnancy yoga, and against all my prejudices, have greatly enjoyed it. I’ve been rather dismissive of yoga in the past, despite the fact that my Dad is a total yogi and is training to be a yoga teacher. It has always smacked of lentil weavery to me. And as a rule, I prefer the type of exercise where you feel you’re going to die (ie Brit Mil Fit). But, having ditched my normal routine once the Bean came on the scene, I eventually realised that it wasn’t good for me to go from 2 high impact exercise classes a week to leading the lifestyle of a (pregnant, but still) slug.
I confess that I cringed as I walked through my rather bohemian ‘hood with a yoga mat sticking out of a hessian bag, sportswear clinging to my emerging bump. I could have sworn the people drinking outside the wine bars were giving me evils and I wanted to assure them that I was well aware of my status as Walking Cliche, and I wanted to throw custard pies at me too.
But the class itself, once I had got over the feeling that I shouldn’t really be there- it was full of actual pregnant women, not frauds like me! (yep, still feel like that)- and realised that pregnancy is the ideal social crutch for slightly awkward types (dozens of instant conversation-openers at your fingertips!), was ace. Apart from the bit where we had to sit back to back with a partner and exhale like “aaaaaaaaah”. I just couldn’t be earnest about that.
The next class was this Monday, and I had the most lovely experience. When we were doing the deep breathing exercises, the baby started to dance about vigorously. In the last couple of weeks I’ve felt flutters and pops, especially in the evenings. But this was a full-on hoedown in my belly, complete with a couple of proper, actual kicks (the likes of which I haven’t really felt since, despite my desperate nose-breathing and “aah-ing” and rib-cage-expanding at home, in an attempt to encourage a repeat performance). The excitement, not to mention the party in my paunch, did rather hinder my efforts to achieve deep zen-like calm. But then, the Bean is a little young to understand the concept of “relaxation”, so he/she is forgiven.
Baby likes yoga. Yoga it is then! Then, pudding. Then another nap.