So this time seven years ago Bobby and I were fast asleep in our bed with our sweet just-a-few-hours-old-born-in-the-bath Sophie snuggled up on one side of us, cuddly little four-year-old Emily on the other other side of the bed, and seven-year-old-Stephen-who-seemed-so-big-then-but-really-wasn't somewhere near the bottom of the bed.

I loved Soph's homebirth. It was one of the most beautiful and joyful experiences of my life.

But, as I said, we're not celebrating her birthday today. Her 2004 birthday is going to be on August 7th, and we'll go all out to make it a perfect day for her.

I got a lot done today. It all went really well. Except for the trial run of Stephen's school day - the get up at 5.30 am thing ... I slept right through the alarm. How pathetic is that. We'll give it another bash tomorrow.

Ems and I were at the middle school by 8.30, to pick up her schedule and meet her teachers. The school has wonderful facilities. I hope the teachers take full advantage of them. Her French teacher seems like fun : he's a big African (not African-American) guy, very enthusiastic, full of jokes. His first language is French, and he believes in learning through speaking. Says they don't bother with the textbook at all in his class. Sounds good! The only teacher I have reservations about is her math teacher, who seems persnickety and rulebound. But I suppose she may yet turn out to be good at her job.

The school is very new, nicely laid out, and very easy to navigate. This is good, because Ems has been known to get lost going round the block. Yes, really. But once we'd met all the teachers, she went back to the bus ramp, and was able to make her way to each of her classes in order, without getting confused. And then she found the cafeteria and the loos. So she feels totally confident about finding her way around on Monday.

All the other sixth graders seem absolutely huge in comparison to Emily. I hope that her size doesn't affect her interactions with the other kids ... Thus far she's escaped negative attention from her peers; ironically, it's only adults who've been tactless and upset her.

We were done at the middle school by 11, and went straight to buy a washer and dryer. I got great deals at the Sears scratch-and-dent outlet. There's a teeny scratch on the lid of the washer, and a little ding on the bottom of the dryer - neither is at all noticeable. Well worth the savings. So that was quite quick and easy. They're going to be delivered on Monday - perfect timing. Monday'll be a day of deliveries, as our patio furniture and a lawnmower (oh joy) will also be arriving.

Then I had to go to the bank and get a certified cheque for the closing. Also a painless process. Back home for lunch, and then our liason at the lender's called to tell me that she'd actually told me the wrong amount for the cheque - she hadn't put in the homeowners insurance. So I had to go back to the bank and get a second certified cheque. Which was annoying. But the girls were pleased, because every time we go into the bank the tellers give them lollipops.

And then it was time to go the realtor's office for the closing, where we signed seven million documents, all of which basically said that we now owe the bank money and, come what may, one way or another they will be getting it back from us. With interest.

Packing this evening, then tomorrow it's Steve's open house in the morning, and we can start moving in the afternoon. Yippee!

I also need to call the transportation people about Emily's bus route. Too complicated to bother writing it all out, but, having spent hours perusing the online list of stops, I think it's possible for her to get home earlier if she takes a different bus than the one they've allocated her.

I had an odd perception-shifting experience earlier this evening. I had a headache from all the running around in the heat, I was struggling to get dinner on the table and worrying about all the packing we still have to do. And then ... it was strange. I suddenly relaxed and realised that the move is happening, it'll all work out, and I should try to enjoy it instead of fighting it.

Wow. As I wrote that, I realised it was a similar feeling to one I had when I was in labour with Sophs. My contractions were really, really hard and fast, and I had tensed up and was fighting them. Then my midwife whispered "Don't fight it. Just breath it away." And as soon as I stopped fighting and relaxed into it - not a very intuitive thing to do, somehow - I could manage again.

We still haven't decided whether to try for a new baby. It could be wonderful for us, having a new person to get to know and love. But there's the risk that the new little one would make our current family activities too complicated. We plan to go climbing in Alabama over the Labor Day weekend, for instance. Not sure how, say, a two year old would fit into that scenario ... And Stephen's only going to be at home for another few years, it would be terrible not to make the most of them. Bobby's worried that we'd end up doing separate things a lot of the time, me with the baby and him with the big kids. I'd also hate that ... Sometimes I think we'd find a path and it would all work out. Other times I wonder if I'm being too idealistic, and worry that the other kids would end up being short-changed.

One way or another, we're going to decide within the next couple of months. My personal deadline - and I'm not sure how I arrived at this, but I feel quite sure about it - is that, if I'm going to conceive, I want to do it before I turn 35. So, before Christmas this year. We'll see what happens.