They are a Heavy Burden, Socks.

You all know yesterday was Octavia's 3rd birthday and that I was up late last night organising photos and updating you. So it was a hard slog to have to wake thrice in the night to help Ms. Pants Only No Pullups to the toilet on her first big night. And there was the snack she requested at 6, which was actually 5, though I forgot to turn back the clock. So at a certain point in the morning when I was dragging myself up from the abyss, I heard mad scrambling for a clean pair of undies from the one child and the father declaiming to the other that it is customary to change one's undergarments and socks daily. The response was, "Oououh, they are so heavy!" presumably on his way to the shower. And Scott's response: "Yes, they are a heavy burden, socks." Laughter is the best cup of coffee they say. I thought the day could only get better.

But then, somewhere after we got to Quaker meeting an hour early, since we'd forgotten to Fall Back, and I'd gone to meet a group of expectant parents to answer questions about local maternity services, the cranks set in. I was aware that the house is a scattered mess of toys and papers. Christmas gifts are wrapped, yes, but have I got any baby clothes organised? My calendar is filling (when you are 34 weeks pregnant having 1 item in the daily diary seems full) and the kids are off school for the week. Hallowe'en. Oh, dear. Costumes.

And then I remembered that most of the trousers I have been wearing require a belt. Not because I am overly slim but because I have Bunting Syndrome: a belly larger than the hips with a bit of lordosis thrown in for good measure. My solution? The loan of Scott's belt. Now, if one's mate has a 34-36 inch waist, it is not such a come-down to wear his belt around the hips. After all, when I was but a girl they used to remark that 36 was the ideal hip measurement. Of course, they didn't encourage a 39-inch bust and a 42.1-inch waist. But these are the metamorphoses we endure for our children. My 42.1" waist looks nothing as chubby as the cheeks in the photo Scott took of Octavia and me yesterday. When I remarked, Octavia said "Yes, and my cheeks are too!" with great glee.

What am I really worrying about? Not much. Just those little details that keep us from focusing on the big details. We'll be welcoming this new person out of me in so few weeks now. Only about 6 medium-sized projects and a wall of fatigue stand between me & baby and labour and birth. I sense that just around a nearby corner I will find that I am excited. Ready for the challenge and the miracle. But right now socks are a heavy burden and there are several loads of dirty ones floating through the house.