A week after the initial 'it could happen anytime' announcement, things have still not happened.
I spend the days moving baby clothes from one drawer to another and back again, polishing door handles, dusting book shelves, washing everything I own...and then I go to bed and hope something will go bump in the night... or maybe that should be I go to bed and hope bump goes something in the night?
The Hospital bags have moved from the bedroom to the sofa and now optimistically reside right next to the front door. Stem cell storage boxes on one side, bag for me and bag for the boys on the other.
We have packed a Flip video to capture the early days memories which would no doubt otherwise be lost in a sleepless, emotionally heightened blur. The super sleek deliciously easy to use camera is a far cry from the intimidating clunky things I avoided growing up and will no doubt be a permanent handbag (change bag) item whipped out at every gurgle, smile and act of extreme cuteness. Every now and again I take it out of the Hospital bag and say a little message to the bump-thinking it will be fun for the boys to see in a few years time. The trouble is the first 'hello chaps isn't it weird that you both lived in my tummy once upon a time' message has become a slightly frantic, pleading 'when are you going to move out?' message. One that is likely to be repeated in about 20years I should think!
On the odd occasion I go for a waddle, I mean walk, people do a double take that usually proceeds one of the following well meaning but irritating gestures and/or words of wisdom;
1)) Arms fully extended, hands moved in an arch in front of tummy, face contorted into sympathetic grimace. This is particularly popular if I am spotted on the other side of the road as the grandiose nature of the movement means I, and anyone else on my side of the road, is unlikely to have any trouble comprehending the charade.
2) Brief thumbs up of support.
3) A pat on the back and a 'well done'. This usually takes place on public transport.
If I'm really lucky I'll be treated to all three of the above in one hit. I smile outwardly, swear inwardly and return to sofa sanctuary and stare impatiently at the bump. Last night, with fat feet up on the coffee table, I issued the boys with an eviction notice…
Katy Hymas (Mummy Blogger and soon-to-be mum of twins)
March 2010
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The 'Other' in Mother
