It's quite weird not working.
The only other time I've ever been at home and not in an office job was either when I was:
1) unemployed or part-time employed (both which meant I couldn't really do anything in my spare time as I had no money)
2) freelancing my writing (at a time after I was healing a broken heart, had been laid off work and had been in an attempted car hijacking, all in the space of a week.)
So any previous experiences of not working have been a bit shit, actually.
Now I am filling my time with antenatal classes; attending to house jobs while the sounds of a porcelain tile cutter dredge its way through my cranium. Moving one box and then sitting, gulping for breath. Or painting something and immediately needing a lie-down. Manual work punctuated by brief spells of sleep or breathlessness attacks.
It's actually rather nice.
I am wondering what's going on at work though. The gossip, what's on the lunch menu....
Don't feel like a lady of leisure. There's too much to be done around here - the building stuff still continues - and as I am so slow at the moment, doing anything takes mountains of motivation and energy.
I've just come back from finishing my official antenatal classes with the Brit. The classes that teach you how to breathe when your body feels like it's about to implode with pain, to how to change nappies and what kind of life you have in the first 8 weeks of parenthood.
For the record, this is how our lives will look for half of one 24 hour day when our sproglets have just been born, worst case scenario, give or take:
The others in this group were really really nice. Just sound, lovely ladies. All having one child, but really supportive and interested in mine and the Brit's double plight ahead.
One is craving chocolate milkshakes just like me, and another is a South African. Hopefully we will all meet up regularly.
Right I need a nap.
PS: Stay tuned for tomorrow's "mad and ridiculous French women's unleashing." It's time to let the frog out of the bag.