Running errands while in your third trimester looks something like this for me...

Bribing myself with Taco Bell or Starbucks to get up and leave the house to be productive.

Leave the house. It’s 30 degrees and I forgot to put my coat on.

Drive to Taco Bell, because I earned it. Eat the burrito I have been craving, but spill most of it down the front of my shirt. At the same time, noticing a bleach stain on my overpriced maternity leggings, that I couldn’t see before because obviously my belly is too big while standing.

**should be noted the bleach stain was a result of losing the bleach cap to a new bottle of bleach while doing laundry. Dropped the cap (because I drop everything these days) and it rolled behind the washer, never to be found again.**

Drive across town to the pharmacy that sells the only prenatal vitamins that do not make me sick.

Spend 10 minutes trying to differentiate between two different generic stool softeners. Eventually give up and go ask the pharmacist. They are exactly the same, except one is $2.00 cheaper.

Check out. Have to walk back to the very back of the store because I left my keys at the pharmacy counter. Hello, round ligament pain.

Go to the grocery store. Park shamelessly in the “new and expecting mother’s” spot at the front near the door. Grab the few supplies I need for dinner and then realize we are out of my significant other’s favorite lemonade. He HAS to have the lemonade. Walk to the furthest corner of the store and grab the lemonade. Hello again, round ligament pain.

Realize I should have gotten a cart and not a basket. Lemonade is heavy. Lug the basket up to the counter and let out a sigh as I slam it down. Cashier asks for my reward card. Momentarily I forget my phone number, only to eventually remember it.

Grab groceries and head back to the car. Turn around and go back to the counter, as I have forgotten my keys...again.

Stop at the hardware store for 1 1/2 inch drywall screws. Realize they only carry 1 1/4 or 1 5/8 inch screws. Realize I don’t know the width needed. Realize I know nothing about screws and that I am in fact, screwed. Shed some tears. Call my significant other for instruction. But screws.

Get home, carry all the bags up the stairs in slow motion, because I move like a sloth these days. Throw bags on the counter and collapse in a chair. Enjoy 3 seconds of peace and relaxation before having to rush to the bathroom to pee.

Sigh.