Things to do at thirty weeks: an alternative list for the anti-nester

I’ve been a bit list-tastic lately, no? Forgive me: I’m tired enough that long sentences hurt my frontal lobe.

This morning I got my Congratulations, Thirty-Weeker email from It included a list of feel-good things to do in the last sprint towards Labour Day. Very nice, I thought. But it was all a bit too much about nesting, and – I know this will come as a shock – I’m not really the nesting type. So I wrote my own, and will be taking this advice extremely seriously.

Congratulations, Thirty-Weeker! Why not try some of the following?

1. Realise you have only ten weeks of food excuses left. Retrieve the Ben & Jerry’s from the freezer, and finish it.

2. Spend twenty minutes trying to paint your toenails. It’s difficult, and may require some greasing, but it’s probably your last chance. In the same spirit, book a haircut and buy some heavy-duty concealer and waterproof mascara.

3. Take innumerable self-portraits in the mirror. Soon you won’t fit in the frame. Remember to edit out the chocolate around your mouth (done).

4. Think of the next two months as the final marathon slog for your skin. Take baths. Exfoliate. Use much, much cream. Wangle as many massages as you can.

5. Take some time to remember what life was like with a newborn. Reread old blog posts if you have them. Resolve to schedule two naps a day from now on. Start stockpiling chocolate gateau.

6. Tell everyone who asks (PLEASE STOP ASKING) that actually, they’re right: you are having twins after all. Thought you’d make it a surprise.

7. Abandon heels, finally. The elephankles are coming. Treat ’em right.

8. Organise some sort of pulley system for lifting and carrying your toddler. I have this sort of thing in mind (I’m the elephant, Hen the war-painted arrow-shooter).

9. Revisit the baby name shortlist. Tell Daddy, again, that you’re not naming the baby after him. Reluctantly strike off Sweyn Forkbeard. Don’t talk about specific names with anyone but the two of you: at this stage, people aren’t shy about telling you they hate it.

10. Sort baby supplies list into Must Have Now, Can Probably Buy Later and I’ll Never Use That Anyway. Buy, at the very least, a ten-pack of tiny vests. Keep them where you can see them. They’ll remind you why you’re doing this, and that it’s all going to be fine.


No, it really is.

7 thoughts on “Things to do at thirty weeks: an alternative list for the anti-nester

    • Hmm, I won’t be sorry when pregnancy is a distant memory, either! Some people bloom; I do not. Love the baby part of it, but if I could arrange for a stork to drop them off after nine months, I would…

  1. Hi Rachel, I think this’ll make for a useful artefact for me 9 months hence. I particularly liked 1st and 4th points. Good luck handling the ‘asking’ people 🙂

  2. Ah, The Askers. A category all of their own. On Sunday I think I had atleast 8 “how many weeks left now?” or variations thereof, and I left church early so that didn’t even include Relief Society! I also had “nothing happened then?” on the school run this morning. Why yes actually, this is just a beach ball up my shirt and I left the baby at home.

    • Haaaa. Oh, so familiar. I don’t mind the ‘how many weeks left’ questions too much, but the twins one makes me laugh: oh yes, didn’t I tell you? It’s two babies after all! Silly me!

  3. Pingback: Pregnancy crib-notes: some things I wish I’d known about two | make a long story short

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