Today, exhausted from being awake last night from midnight to six a.m. experiencing ominous achy pre-labor cramps and holding a light-up clock for timing what could either have been Braxton-Hicks contractions or the real thing (update: not the real thing. yet.), and then having been awakened by Julia after only an hour's afternoon nap for both of us, prompting me to burst into tears, I actually INTERRUPTED HER IMAGINATIVE PLAY to utter the words, "Honey, do you want to go downstairs and watch your Sesame Street DVD?"
(To fully understand the low to which I had indeed sunk, you have to understand that we generally don't allow Julia to watch TV; she owns this one and only educational DVD, and she watches it maybe a couple of times a month for a half hour at a time at most.)
I could actually feel myself cringing as the words escaped my mouth. It was so sad the way she froze in the middle of her "swimming in the big blue ocean" pretend play, considered my question, said, "Yeah!" and ran toward the stairs with what could only have been confused joy. Then she stood by the TV watching raptly while I laid on the couch and fell asleep during each song. Yes, I halted my baby's active, creative game to plant her sedentarily in front of a SCREEN--something, I can tell you, she really, really does not need, since all of her most beloved activities just happen to be of the extremely sedentary variety (coloring, reading books, having tea party, playing Play-Dough, chalk drawing) and I've become physically unable to do anything active with her during the day in recent weeks so she's getting next to no exercise most of the time.
Oy vey. I'm torn between wanting this pregnancy to end as soon as possible, because this week I suddenly became absolutely worthless for anything other than lying down, and hoping the baby holds out long enough for us to have childcare in place for Julia during our hospital stay.