Life of luxury

Other than the emergence of a snubby nose or chubby fist from her nether regions, ET has experienced one of the last big signs that the time is nigh.

Maternity leave.

No more alarms, no more waddling across snowy car parks, and no more trying to work out how to reach a keyboard that is distanced from your wee fingertips by the length of the gut projecting out of you.

Until sometime in July at least.

She’s now a lady of leisure, and can focus on a little baking, some pottering, but mostly embroidery. Or watching repeats of Law & Order, whichever suits.

The greatest little recognised advantage of maternity leave is of course, post. No longer will I have to spend evenings trawling up and down the street trying with a postman’s illegible note trying to find the parcel that he dropped off with some random neighbour, our post shall be delivered.

The downside of this is a tad more practical. Up to now she has been drinking tea, using toilet paper, and consuming electricity all at the expense of her employer, but now her Cleopatrian lounging will thrust us into financial disaster with soaring toilet paper bills and tea-bag shortages.

Maternity leave, another one of life’s ill thought through concepts.

Big head

Bless her.

My poor wife has been in denial for quite a while.

For months ET has been emphatic about how this child will be small. She herself is petite, and I’m rarely in danger of obtaining head injuries in doorways. Regardless of how rounder and fuller she became, she seemed insistent that the child would be a tidy target 6lbs.

Big enough to be healthy, small enough not to dislocate a pelvis or shatter a hip.

The wise head that I am, I’ve been reinforcing the idea that the kid will be significantly more than 6lbs, a view she refused to entertain, regardless of the evidence that was, quite literally, in front of her.

Last Tuesday, the midwife put paid to her fanciful notion of birthing an elfin child of some sort and informed us that the bellydweller is heading for an above average size.

Holding in the giggles, I converted her 3500 gram estimate to a delightful 7lbs and 11 ounces. I believe she also said that the child already has teeth and pointy elbows, although I may have misunderstood that bit. Or imagined it. Or made it up entirely.

Either way, it seems my dear wife’s love tunnel will be accommodating the transport of her 6lb baby as expected, just with 33% extra free.

The good news for her is that it has just 4 weeks and 6 days left to grow. . .