So there I am with my very low 36-37 week pregnant belly, with a pair of leggings in my hand yet unable to reach my feet. Now I would normally just give up right here,
So there I am with my very low 36-37 week pregnant belly, with a pair of leggings in my hand yet unable to reach my feet. Now I would normally just give up right here, but I have a wedding to go to (that’s a whole new blog post…) and I am pretty sure the plush venue in Surrey wouldn’t be too enthralled with my leopard print fleecy pj bottoms. So I am trying to work out how I could accomplish the task that seems so damn impossible but vital. Then I spy it, the birthing ball. The birthing ball is my saviour, it allows to me to sit pain free !
So I sit on the ball and think that may this isn’t going to be so hard to achieve….so I am perched on the ball and I decide to lift a foot. ROLL and BOING. I am on the floor. The kids are laughing, pretty hard. I am like a weeble, but only I did fall over…. But we have progress, one foot inside one leg of my leggings. So I am now rolling around on the floor trying to get the other foot in, it takes a while…and the help of my 10 year old son who is now looking concerned. Then the doorbell goes, so grabbing the sofa and trying to force my overweight oversized body off the floor I run for the front door, only the leggings are around my ankles still and I fall down like a sack of spuds. I shout to the 10 year old to grab the door (before impatient parcel man legs it off), he opens the front door wide, and I haul myself up…only my dressing gown has decieded to fall open as I push my hands down to get on my knees….and my dressing gown is falling open to expose my rather unsightly breasts to the world (ok, maybe not the world, but the parcel man at least)
Note to self, don’t attempt getting dressed in future, just live in your pjs, it is a lot easier and less scary for everyone (including Mr Parcelman)