on the limbo travelator

Lots of things are happening in slow motion at the moment. I am aware that with only 3 months left to go that there's not much time left in which to do everything I want/need/ought to do and that there's simutaneously waaay too much time left in this pregnancy. To wish the time away would be to wish away the last remaining days of what I am referring to in my head as 'my youth', somewhat of an exageration given my years but let's just let that rest for a moment. To loll about selfishly enjoying them would be to waste what is left of the time we have in which to prepare.

Resultantly, we're not doing anything. This weekend is the last bank holiday weekend BP (Before Panic) and we had vague plans to drive around, to go to movies, to enjoy ourselves, you know the sort of thing. Instead, apart from see friends for dinner, we have done nothing. Nothing. Not 'nothing' meaning lying in bed feeding each other grapes or laying in the garden reading - no, 'nothing' meaning checking our emails, doing laundry and killing time stone dead with details and non-entity work.

In some way I feel really awful - listless, restless and vaguely uncomfortable, as if I'm on a long bus ride and I've just finished my last book. There are so many things I can't do, so many things I should be doing but don't want to do that finding something that I actually want to do and can do is too much effort, so I pfaff about. I can't go shopping for pleasure because where-ever I go I am reminded that I am huge, a monstrous blob who will be unable to buy anything new and lovely for ages - who will be unable to fit into anything new and lovely for ages.

D and I have had a demonstration of cloth nappies and are really keen to use them. This briefly galvanised us to plan a trip to a department store to test out some buggies and prams but we've done no more than plan. The problem is that after half an hour we'll be bored, I'll have to wee, then eat, then sit down and poor old D will have to squire me to the nearest restaurant and get indigestion in the name of his wife fulfilling her craving for natchos/grilled cheese sandwiches/icecream/whatever is next on the list. And, because it takes me ages to rouse myself in the mornings, by the time the bill arrives it's too late to go anywhere but home. Even when we do manage to go and see friends it takes ages to stop talking about the baby and get onto more interesting things and poor old D is just sick of it, I can tell.

I ease my cravings for baby contact with a group of other Mums-to-be online. It's good to know others going through much the same things at the same time but odd not to know them face to face - to worry about them, laugh with them and yet never see them. However this means I am online a lot which is another way of throwing stones in the general direction of time.

So, life goes on and on and on, much like the rain and I keep thinking 'What can I do so that in three months time I don't look back and say 'why didn't I...???''