We recently refinished our kitchen table, and created a craft table for the kids in the playroom. The kitchen table was declared a no-crafting zone, as an attempt to create some order in our soon-to-be-even-busier lives. A few days later, Violet got her hands on a Sharpie, and voila. The "new" old kitchen table was baptized with black permanent marker.
This is the scene at the table at 7:00 this morning: pencil crayons, glue, pompoms, beads, knitting, colouring books, scissors, and of course, my coffee decorate its surface while three busy kids share beads, spill the glue (and stare at it as it pours out of the opening), argue, plan their day, and interrupt each other.
I simultaneously create a photo shoot of what I've been knitting and reading, make a fire in the woodstove, replenish my coffee, throw in "Mmhms" to Jude's lengthy story about playing in the schoolyard yesterday, remind the girls not to interrupt (again), and wonder how many more mornings like this we'll have before baby girl arrives.
I'm knitting: baby things (a modern layette: mismatched, stripey, colourful, fun), and baby fan wrist warmers for friends.
I'm reading: "The Girl Giant" (started it in the driveway yesterday when we got home from the library; Margot had dozed off and I sat for a half hour, engrossed), after finishing "Half Blood Blues" by Esi Edugyan. It was a fabulous read, set in World War Two Europe. It sheds light on the experiences of black jazz musicians in Nazi Europe, and the complexities and betrayals born of jealousy, talent, love, and fear. Compelling, to say the least.
We're nestling in here, aware that the routines and dynamics we've come to know as a family of five are about to shift. In a few weeks, we'll be ready for it, and will welcome the new rhythms that will be ours.