Today marks the beginning of my twentieth week of pregnancy, which is also known as "halfway" (though the French count 41 weeks but they are a bit masochistic, aren't they?). Despite the fact that I feel absolutely enormous (I've already been asked if I'm having twins), I'm feeling pretty alright, generally speaking. However, after spending the weekend in Paris with les filles on what is surely my last Lost Weekend, I have learned the following things:
1) I am not "making a pig of myself" for taking the last blini at lunch or having an extra slice of toast in the morning, as I was gently reminded by my hosts K & K
2) I can no longer keep up with the crowd and there is nothing wrong with that. Sitting on the ground for a few hours may be a bit uncomfortable but following it with walking at high speeds from the tippy tippy end of the Ile de la Cité to the middle of the Marais is an awfully good way to ensure a flare up of sciatica.
So I'm limping a little today, and catching up at home may take a little longer than usual, but I have to stop beating up myself for taking longer or moving slower than usual; there is a good reason for it.