actually, megan, i can't sit anywhere

It’s Ash Wednesday this week.

I’m aware that, for most people, this means wonky pancakes on Tuesday morning and then six weeks of panic-buying Easter eggs.

It’s a bit different for us. Tuesday means McGriddles for lunch and crespelle for dinner, followed by a day of people going ‘did you know there’s something on your forehead?’.

(yes, I did, thanks)

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I actually really enjoy Lent. It’s a chance to reset and to evaluate the habits I might have fallen into that aren’t necessarily serving me. According to a survey done in Cumbria in 2022, the top things people give up were:

• Soda

• Chocolate

• Complaining

I had considered giving up soda or chocolate. I’m not usually into sweets, but pregnancy seems to have changed that. Add in the fact that I’m also not really into food and we’re hitting a serious calorie deficit if I start taking out the only things I can usually force down.

Complaining, however - well, that’s entirely different.

I am uncomfortable.

I am tired.

I am breathless and cross and the baby seems to have taken up permanent residence in my ribcage and-

And I don’t necessarily need to be making these things everyone else’s problem.

Like Easter, the end is in sight. I know she won’t be in here in ten weeks’ time - she’ll be out and crying and causing hell of an entirely different nature. Nobody has ever said that pregnancy is easy, but I’ve had a relatively comfortable ride of it so far - minimal morning sickness, being able to adapt most of my clothes, no insane cravings or aversions, and moodiness that isn’t too far out of my general range of emotional imbalance.

And, at the end of all of this, we’ll have a baby, which is (marginally) more exciting than a Lindt bunny.

This Lent, my third trimester is my cross to bear. And I’m going to try to keep it to myself.

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highlights

I had a panic about the baby arriving early and then having to be naked. Enter Rational Husband, who organised a day trip to Manchester and then spent £40 in Marks & Spencer. I can’t really blame him - he’s a baker, I’m a Parisian, so their new croissant-themed babywear was practically made for us.

One of the things we’re trying to avoid for Pea is the recent swath of children’s books called things like ‘Help, My Bum Ran Away’ or ‘Oh Look, It’s A Poo’. Vinted to the rescue again - I’ve already picked up second-hand copies of Madeline and Bécassine. Add in some very chic (and cheap) pieces from La Redoute, and we’re almost all set for our tiny Parisienne.

Anyone who’s pregnant will be bombarded with adverts for Emma’s Diary as soon as their Instagram algorithm figures it out. I finally got round to signing up for their freebies, and, if you’re pregnant, make sure you don’t miss out. Even if you don’t end up using them, having a spare packet of diapers and wipes in the cupboard can’t hurt - and something tells me that the discount coupons for HelloFresh might be quite useful for those first few sleep-deprived weeks.

We’ve bitten the bullet and bought a pram - the Joie Versatrax in sand. The husband is delighted because it will match his tweed jackets; I’m pleased because it comes with a cupholder. Online reviews say that it’s a bit big and clunky - we’ll have to wait until it arrives to find out.