Sunday, November 18, 2007


It's the third Sunday of November, which means I'm doing lots of laundry and packing. Move-in for the One of a Kind Christmas Show starts tomorrow morning, so instead of making the daily commute into work, I just pack up and relocate to Toronto for two weeks. It's never easy leaving lovie and the comfort of home, but it means I get to sleep in, even after a 14 hour day.

The calendar also tells me today is the day for Guelph's Santa Claus Parade. A few hours ago, there were holiday floats and musical bands and festive pedestrians lining Woolwich Street. (Our house seems to be the starting point of the route, which allows for an entertaining sociological glimpse into the heart of Guelph. It's like the circus has arrived, I tell you) With all the laundry and packing that goes on, I've not once seen the actual parade, but I have a feeling we've got the best seats in town.

As of yesterday, I'm also 6 and a half months pregnant, which means those dang clothes being laundered and packed are very different from those of previous years. Empire waists and happy bows abound. I cringe having to shop at places like Motherhood, but as someone who was told her chances of getting pregnant were next to nil, I'll take it.

It's been a strange transition, going from an infertile statistic to mother-to-be. At times, I'm cautious about my joy because I know how many people out there have wished far harder than myself to have children. I also know that anything can happen and things can change at the drop of a hat. By the time I realized I was pregnant, my preparations for a life without kids had already been considered. I'd submit my BFA degree completion application to OCAD in early November, begin classes in the summer and wait to see what new opportunities came from the process.

A month or two ago, before the routine kicking had started, a thought suddenly hit me during rush hour. As I wove my way through the heaps of cranky commuters in Union Station, it occurred to me that I was actually carrying someone with me, that I wasn't alone. That realization seemed to turn the chaos to clarity, and for a split second my movement was effortless, like the waltz scene from The Fisher King. At that point I also realized that I should take an inventory of all the other things I'd been carrying around with me on a daily basis. Things like stress, worry and knapsacks full of obligation and fear of failure. Perhaps I didn't need to carry all of it...perhaps the load had gotten too heavy and some of those things simply needed to be left behind.

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