I surprised myself last night when I was sitting watching television with Beloved with knitting needles in my hands. It has been months since I touched them, most evenings I have just been too mind-numbingly exhausted to even consider it. But it makes sense, at the end of each pregnancy I have turned into a mad keen knitting machine! There is something soothing about the stitches slowly coming together to create something new. There is something about carrying a child that brings out the desire to create, a small thumb print on my soul left by the Creator when He made me in His image. The same way Erin sits down and painstakingly makes list after undecipherable list in mimicry of my own list making habits, I create small, flawed items in mimicry of the Creator. And His creative power is rarely more apparent to me than now.
This is the first time I have been so big and heavy in the heat, my other babies all being winter or early spring babies. It does not bring out the best in me. I walked down to the post office this morning to get stamps after leaping about with the children during their once-a-month music session. Uncomfortable Braxton-Hicks impeded my progress. It was a relief to sit Christopher on the cool counter and visit with the post master as the children snacked from his ever-ready lolly jar (I love life in a small town!). I trundled along to the craft shop to choose the last Christmas gift on my list, fair waddling in the heat. The children were threatened with dire consequences if their chocolate covered fingers touched ANYTHING. They didn't touch, but I was on edge the whole time we were in there. I had a short visit with Jane - the kind-hearted lady who runs the shop. She once confided in me that she didn't much like children as a rule and never felt the desire to have any herself - but my children are different and they are just lovely to have around. I don't know if she has changed her mind now that Christopher threw up his chocolate frog all over her floor.
Of course, by the time we were heading home the children had fallen in to their three stooges act. They have never seen the show, but I think it is written somewhere in the DNA of young children that they must behave in such a way when it is hot, they are tired and their mother is about ready to tie them to a tree.
Phrases I never thought I would have to say:
"Will you PLEASE get your fingers OUT of his eyes!"
"Do not lay on your brother, you may be littler than him but he still doesn't like it"
"Well if you yell like that, yes he will find it funny and do it again won't he. Try not yelling and asking him NICELY to get his finger out of your ear"
"Yes, I'd like a drink too, but where do you think I will get one from? Do you think I am the drink fairy? Home is just over there, I will get you a drink then."
"Your legs are tired? Shall I cut them off then?"
So tired, hot, sore and exhausted, I sit. I have a list of things to do as long as both my arms (including washing the pram - Billy didn't quite 'make it' all the way home). I feel heavy.
As I run my fingers over my yarn, and my swelling belly, I remember again the act of creation being completed in me. The miraculous creation of new life. The double creation of this child, and the re-creation of me, His child.
What a privilege, what a joy.
#46 the 'ripe' feeling of late pregnancy, like a summer fruit about to burst with potential
#47 sticky fingers holding out a fragment of chocolate "just for you"
#48 rest, when true tiredness sets in. Precious moments in an armchair
#49 a small boy "quacking" to himself as he "reads" a book about ducks
#50 Blond pigtails bouncing as she runs ahead, words tumbling from her mouth with careless abandon.