And so off I waddle, into the long sunset of maternity leave. Actually, having departed work over a week ago, I don't seem to have put my feet up much at all since then. There is a long list, you see, of Things Needing Done before I can relax- which seems largely comprised of doing stuff like vast amounts of recycling and charity shop donatation of reams of crap, accumulated in this flat over the last couple of years. Who knew, for example, that we had so much mismatched tupperware in the cupboard? So many mateless black socks? Out it all goes, with a brutal ruthlessness- and yet immediately something else seems to spawn in its place.
Meanwhile, I am coming up for 37 weeks. The pregnancy insomnia has ramped up a level- as if I would have thought that humanly possible. I suspect part of the problem is that my sleep cycle is now disturbed to the point of needing a sharp realignment to get back on track. But at the moment, it's not unusual to go to bed around 11pm, wake up at 1.30am and still be up at 6am. Kicked relentlessly, part of the night finds me mindlessly pacing the floor of the bedroom, or sitting in the dark on the spacehopper. I should really do something worthy with the time- read or knit or write pithy comments on blogs but the best I can muster is playing endless rounds of solitaire on my iphone. I remember doing exactly the same when waiting for Botany, albeit on a rather noisier computer.
Knox- who still has to get up first thing for work- has long since decamped at night to the baby's room, where we have managed to shoehorn our spare foldup bed between the wall, the cot and the wardrobe for the time being. It's dark and cosy and there is no one thrashing around like a discontented walrus to disturb him.
And, in other news, there is now a password protected post up here: