There are so many things I love about the onset of autumn. One of those things is good old fashioned Pennsylvanian arts and craft fall festivals. There are at least 2 big ones that my mom and I go to every year.
Here’s the thing: they involve a LOT of walking.
Saturday I thought it would be a good idea to get up and do my new pregnancy workout entitled “The Perfect Pregnancy Workout.” Seriously, that’s what it’s called. I read all the good reviews everywhere and decided I needed it. So I did it. Within the first 3 minutes I was dripping with sweat. The thing about me is that I sweat a lot for a girl. I sweat even more now that I’m slowly doubling in size. By the time I finished the 40 excruciating minutes of this workout, I was drenched in sweat.
Fast forward to Sunday morning, the day my mom and I had planned to go to the Saxonburg Arts Festival.
I woke up feeling somewhat sore. My legs, my arms. For some reason my second toe on my left foot has been hurting, so it makes it hard to walk normally. I thought, “I can do this. This will be good training for me. Endurance! Yes!” So off we went. The day went fairly well. We walked around, looking at all there was to see, making purchases, and sweating. It was at least 80 degrees and very sunny. Upon making our way back towards the family truckster (read: mini van), we decided to stop and check out an antique shop. It was unairconditioned and crammed full of people. I immediately started feeling kind of sick. We decided it was time to go.
After the hike back to the car, in which I carried one little bag and my mom carried a box with 4 potted mums, 3 jar candles, 2 jars of pepper onion relish, and her purse, we plopped down in the family truckster, both moaning in pain. My mom is 62, and she carried all that shit for me, so she had every right to moan. I FELT like I was 62. My legs were on fire from walking, sweat was trickling down my face, and my feet were swelling.
We were there for 2 and half hours. And I still feel like someone beat me with a bat today.
October 7th is Farmer and Crafter Day in Clarion for the Autumn Leaf Festival (ALF, you may remember from last year). They shut down the entire town that day and Main Street is lined with vendors as far as the naked eye can see. It starts at 8 in the morning and goes until 5. We usually go between 10 and 11 and are there walking around, looking at everything until almost 5. I have a feeling I’m not going to make it that long this year. Just like I won’t make it to the bar for happy hour after the parade on Saturday. It’s going to be a weird ALF year for me, since I won’t really be with any of my friends. They, being the young, single, un-pregnant people that they are, will be out drinking and having fun, much like I used to do every single year during ALF. As I said in one of last year’s posts about ALF, my favorite parts of the weekend are 1. Farmer and Crafter Day and 2. getting shitty drunk. But for me, it has always mostly been about getting shitty drunk. I can recall waking up to meet my mom for Farmer and Crafter Day and having to puke beforehand just so I felt somewhat normal. Then I’d chug a big 7-11 cappuccino and be good to go for the day.
I’ve come to the sudden, scary revelation that my ALFs will never be the same. And I didn’t even get to say goodbye. Sure, I might get to go to the bar in the future while my parents babysit for us at camp, but I’ll always have a little being in the back of my mind, wondering how he or she is doing, feeling anticipation on getting back to mommyhood. Because I don’t think I can go back to my old life ever again. There’s more to lose now.
I suppose I’ll make my peace with that. And I certainly won’t miss spending a shitload of money at the bar. Whoop!
Damn, I just realized that I forgot to buy my extra large bag of kettle corn yesterday. Kettle corn solves all problems. And I could have carried it by myself.