Pregnant, busy week and then food shopping – err why?

Portrait of a Shopping Trolley

Image by Thristian via Flickr

Tell me everyone does this now and again, makes a bad judgement call and bites off more than they chew. The result is that you’re coughing and spluttering up your failed attempts at what ever you’d planned to achieve.

As the pregnancy progresses well into the third trimester I risk this scenario more and more.

Last night was a classic example. I’ve had a busy week at work, up early everyday, plus a trip into the office some 80 miles away. Add a hubby who is dying from man flu and a toddler snotted up with the leftovers of the cold she had so delightfully shared with us all = one tired Mama. My body was fooling me though, at 5/6pm I was going strong. Tea time had gone smoothly, Babe had eaten a plate full of food (ok well plain pasta but it was a full belly), so I set out to do a half supermarket shop.

I say half a shop, because I can’t manage a trolley full of the full stash of food…and I’m eating a lot at the moment as a nursing pregnant mummy.

We got to the supermarket and all was going well…ish. I’d had the debate with Babe in the baby aisle over the dummies, new sippy cups, new cutlery etc. I’d placated her by putting the cutlery in the trolley to later hide on another shelf, which worked. Then I went to the deli counter, fed Babe up on cheese samples, relieved that she was having an opportunity to get her daily protein intake. At the point of ordering the sliced turkey, she asked to come up and see what was going on. I obliged by explaining that she could sit in the trolley. While conversing with the deli man, I reached down grabbed Babe and went to place her in the trolley. As I was resting her down into it the man asked if these particular four slices were ok. I didn’t give a damn but looked round to check, as I did that while lowering Babe, her foot must have moved the trolley and she fell on the floor and burst out into tears. I felt like a terrible mother, and almost sobbed with her. The deli man looked on and asked if £2.08 for the turkey was ok. Oh course it was, I didn’t give a flying fig….he could have said a fiver and I would have taken it. I was feeling guilt ridden and stood hugging Babe whispering how sorry I was. Turned out two minutes later she was fine, but I still felt nasty pangs of guilt.

The rest of the supermarket shop proceeded to be positively hard work, running too and from the toilets, sweetie aisle, while I attempted half heartedly to get just the basics.

By the time I got home my back was killing me, I was exhausted and in a foul mood. I was so tired I went to bed without cleaning my teeth and having not put all the shopping away.

All I can say now is, roll on the weekend!

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