A whisper in your ear

Several weeks ago, on a morning much like any other, you know the ones, the kind when you are rushing around getting ready for work, the little one asleep upstairs, his grandma also asleep in her bed, and we were whispering to each other in the hushed, yet urgent tones reserved for tired and irritable parents trying to get out of the house to go to a job neither of us wanted to go to and without waking up the household in the process, all while still half asleep. That particular morning went something like this:

'Have you unlocked the door?' Nikala asked quietly.
'Yes.' I respond.
'What?'
'Yes, I've unlocked the door!', I hissed back.
'Ok. I need to get the change bag out of the car for mum.'
'What?' I ask.
'I need to get the change bag out of the...nevermind'
'Oh, the change bag. You need to get it out of the car for your mum remember', I whisper back.
'I know! That's what I said!' Nikala whispers back somewhat annoyed.
'Well be quick, we're running late', I whisper urgently, shrugging myself into my shabby, yoghurt stained coat.

I need to buy a new coat, one that Nikala doesn't refer to as my "murderers coat", but then again do I want to spend money on a new coat when it will probably just get covered in toddler, by which I mean, food, spit, dribble, sick, snot, mud, yoghurt, snot. Always snot. Perhaps Ill just keep this coat for the time being, its not a bad coat, well its pretty bad I suppose. the zip is coming off, the pocket is torn, its no longer water proof...

I'm coming to the end of this internal dialogue when I realise Nikala is whispering something to me again, something that sounds important, which I can tell as she is looking at me and waiting for a reply. Her words begin to take shape as my brain pieces them together from the last few seconds.

'Anyway, guess what?' she whispers. I look at her blankly and she continues.
'I'm neglectful again'. She smiles.
'Neglected? Neglected what?' I whisper back, herding her towards the front door.
'No, I've tested peanuts again' she whispers, smiling again.
'What? I don't understand, tell me in the car.' I say.
She stops, turns to me and takes me by the shoulders as we stand at the bottom of the stairs and with a smile that says she understands I'm still half asleep, whispers: 'I'm pregnant again'

I'm delighted and excited, but even now twenty two and half weeks later I'm still panicking about whether we will ever, ever sleep again, given that we haven't yet moved the first child out of our bedroom... We are going to need a bigger bed.