leger, comme un oeuf

August 23, 2007 | Filed Under ordinary 

at thirty two weeks and some days pregnant, i am clearly beginning to feel such, and act like i feel it with much whining and flopping down on the couch, the bed, the chair in the living room jude leaps from, bashing his lip, gum, nose, bringing on blood too early the other morning while he and henry were chums who were building a fort with cushions and furniture, sometime before the coffee finished trudging her way down the stairs with a gurgling stumble in the dark. i feel so pregnant that i often mistakenly think “any day now.” delusional in this heat that will not let up.

today i cooked two meals that were actually edible and were not too boxy and pre-packaged. most days the baby is growing well due to prenatal vitamins and little else, since all that i can muster has zero nutritional value and pretty much zero appeal. the kids feed themselves when they are hungry, needing me for the peeling of apples, the cutting of cheese, the pouring of milk. they feed themselves sandwiches without crusts (which they cut off themselves with butter knives, cutting more than crust, of course), cereal. they think that they can cook now, that the food processor is theirs for the whirling. “someday,” i tell jude, as i stash the thing high and far away.

i try, i really, do, but i’m tired. tired and old and great with child. the doctor tells me all is well and then he talks about a c-section. i look at the boys and don’t want to die, fear of all manner of catastrophe coming over me late, in the dark, keeping me from dreaming about it, about anything at all. it’s hard to know what to do, to be smart, to be carefree, to trust.

the cat brushes at my legs and i feel him purring. he bats at a marble henry rolled across the floor for him earlier in the day, when i suggested he do something the cat would like to do, something other than wrapping him in a blanket and squeezing too tight with a frenzied look in the eyes and a crazy, repetitive sound on the lips. even the cat is not free from worry, i think, as he pauses before rounding a corner, listening for sounds of danger mysterious.

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