The household is on Defcon 2. All personnel are at their battle stations, ready for the imminent birth of #7. The baby clothes are ready and the radar is being constantly monitored. With a full tank of gas and the hospital bags in the back-seat, we are ready to execute our battle plans at the first contraction. All we have to do is wait for it.
In the mean time, Wife is nesting! This means she is waging war against household filth. The dishes quiver with fear. The dirty laundry hides behind doors. And the carpet remains as quiet as possible in the hopes to be overlooked. Yet none escape the cleaning wrath of Wife in the days (hopefully) before the birth.
Not even the children get away. Run as they might, the traps and pitfalls that Wife has set, catch them every time sending them into the tub without delay.
I have even fallen prey to the quick mine sweeping swiftness of my beloved’s cleaning. When I can not locate my boots the next morning, I know they have been put away. When my lunch box disappears, I know it has been put in a safe place. The problem I have is that I do not always know where these items belong. That would be why I left them where I did, and obviously that is not where they should be.
But do not think that Wife works without help, rather we all help; granted the girls help more than I, but work is to blame for my absence. The girls, #1, #2, #3, and #4 will perform the tasks of vacuuming, washing laundry, and even loading and unloading the dishwasher. And under duress, they will clean their rooms. I will also lend a hand, whenever I cannot find something else more important to do.
And we are all inspired by Wife to help her. She inspires us the same way the generals of old would do, if one refuses to help, torture and certain death is to follow.
Please pray that the baby comes soon.