A photo is worth a thousand words. I think I can spare everyone my 1,000 words and let this image speak for itself. Thursday night I had my first significant contractions, which prompted my over-anxious husband to grab his keys and sit on the edge of the couch saying "On y va? Oui, on y va. Mais, on y va ou non? Julie, eh, on y va?"
Even if you don't understand French, I think you get it.
Whatever that was, it passed, and yesterday I "celebrated" Bastille Day for the first time in France. BOOOOOOORRRRRRRIIIIIINNNNNGGGGGG. No festivals, no parades (except the big one in Paris), no cotton candy, no BBQ's, no marching bands. I was pretty let down.
Imagine thousands of people on the beaches and the boardwalk, all watching this big fireworks display over the Mediterranean and no one saying a word. You could practically hear a pin drop over the waves of the sea. No oooohing or aahing, no clapping, no whistling. I said "Are we at a funeral?" Then I spontaneously hooted and clapped for a particularly big display, and everyone turned and looked at me like "there's a crazy pregnant woman here, clapping."
It's ok, gave me something to make fun of on our walk back home. After stopping for a gelatto.
