It’s been a slow week on the writing front. Yes, have done a little every day. But some days its been a very little.

There are some striking similarities between my writing and my walking. Louis and I venture out most days – for sanity or necessity – and at most get about two k’s from home.

Louis exploring the garden at the park.

Generally we are headed to the park, the bakery, or the main part of Antony which is a gentle down-hill wander. Then, pushchair loaded with groceries and whatnot, we have to meander back up the incline. It’s not even a hill, just a slight cant. Not that you’d think so if you had a camera trained on me rather than my surroundings. Ouf. I’m so slow it’s ridiculous.

But we get there eventually. Walking with Louis is great, in one sense, because he’s slower than I am. His legs are a bit shorter, sure, but once he starts running I don’t think that’ll be much of a factor. Unfortunately, walking with Louis is only fun and successful when he wants to walk. He usually makes it part-way to the bakery before he decides to get down and play with the bits of whatever is between the cobbles. I’m standing there, wondering if I should reach down and pick him up, risking going into labour, or just wait it out.

I stand there, my hand out, and insist, “We’re going to keep walking Louis. Take my hand. Come on, sweetie. We’re going to the bakery. Then we’re going to the park – to play with your ball. Come on, let’s go. Take my hand, sweetie. Don’t you want to go to the park?”

This does eventually work. Usually. Though I’m not sure it’s due to my brilliant negotiation, but rather because some other person walks past and Louis is more interested in them than in the bits of leaf and stick between the cobbles.

I’m not always patient enough to wait till he decides to keep going, so once or twice each trip I end up hoisting him off the ground and carrying him a little way – till he’s forgotten about the interesting stuff on the ground and started noticing all the other interesting things around us. And then I put him down and he walks a bit more.

It’s faster, naturally, to just take the pushchair. It’s also a nice leaning-apparatus for when I get contractions. (Not real contractions… well, they’re real enough, just not part of actual labour. Not there yet.)

Anyway, on we plod. It feels like hard going for some of the way, and at other times (Louis is walking happily and my uterus is all relaxed) it’s an easy stroll. Similarly, I write a little everyday and sometimes five hundred words comes easily without brain-contractions or baby-distractions… other times five hundred words feels like a marathon achievement. I get to 450 and that last 50 seem like an impossibility. Not that 500 is my daily minimum or anything. Point is: sometimes the words come easy, and sometimes they hurt.

Today I topped a thousand. I was surprised when I saw the number in the word-count window. It was a real treat actually. Didn’t feel like I was making much progress, but there you go. Took two naps and still felt exhausted this afternoon. Luuk was brilliant and came home early. Took Louis for a bike ride while I got words down. Now, that’s what I call teamwork.

Had yummy (and easy) dinner of leftovers and now it’s the weekend. Have an appointment to meet one of the hospital midwives tomorrow. I’m not sure what the purpose of this meeting is, but hopefully it will become apparent. I suppose it’s a good opportunity for me to ask questions. The meeting isn’t at the hospital so it’s not a guided tour.

On Sunday we’re going to a BBQ – the first of the summer. Today, of course, is the first day of summer. Now that’s something worth celebrating. Weather is threatening to go ballistic, as usual when a BBQ is planned well in advance, but it’ll be fun. The French do food well, after all, and we haven’t had a lot of social events – it’s new and pretty great to have made friends and we’re starting to feel a part of things.

Next week Mum and Dad arrive – so, lots to look forward to, not least of all the arrival of baby #2 and the end of being pregnant. Yippee! Two weeks tomorrow, not that babygirl knows anything about that.

Whenever you’re ready, sweetie.