That's Why I'm Easy Like Sunday Morning

Pregnancy erupts. It interrupts, it consumes, it sweeps through the blood with the intensity and finality of an end -stage disease, pushing and gurgling through the body, saturating each and every cell of my being with the new DNA information that urgently gets passed from nucleus to nucleus: A baby- there is a baby inside- Full Systems Go. The truth about children for me was in a poem I wrote: " every night recognized a little more the essential draw of parenthood: life goes on, life goes on.." I am invited to see newly, right when I felt so old and tired. It would have passed without a pregnancy, of course- but with the pregnancy, not only did it pass, it was swept away with hurricane winds and the sky and trees and dirt and faces and love and life all have a crackling, electric energy about them. The nausea is less and the keen heightening of senses more.

I am cleaning corners and sucking down cobwebs with the vacuum extension. I am planning for Mr. Curry to paint. I am having Mr. Curry take things, bumbling old smelly furniture and things that clutter, to the dump. I am pondering a new kitchen table from IKEA. I am plowing through a bag of donated baby clothes with Lola. I am lovingly hand washing the recesses of our tile floor. I am aware of the moment without as much effort as it normally takes my neurotic mind to extend. I am making room for one more.

A bizarre side effect from this pregnancy: my puss smells like honey. It really does. Thanks, Kid.

Today I wore a long flowery dress, strapless, with turquoise print. I bought it at Target months ago, before I knew. My stomach swelled out underneath my breasts and everyone remarked the way everyone does when you are pregnant ' how sweet, how beautiful, how lovely, how exciting ' and I felt great. Later I cried for no reason in the bathroom and almost vomited lunch while the mirror remarked how tired and exhausted and old I suddenly looked, and I felt crappy.

Our cat Hermione had kittens, four: Black, Grey, Siamese colored (that's from Grandma Kagome, also our cat) and light orange tabby. They roam about, almost a month old, in their room, close to their box and their mother, their adorable fuzzy faces curious and frightened and thrilled and horrified. I'm feelin that.

The count of people asking if I'm having twins has now risen to Six, including one Mr. Curry, who when seeing my baby bump today in the new dress sucked in his breath and said ' Oh God, maybe you ARE having twins. ' Uhhmmm. I gave him the look and he stuttered ' Probably not, honey! ' Yeah.
Say that again. I dare you.

xo
maggie may