I mean... getting on my hands and knees to scrub the underside of a toilet while maneuvering 40+ pounds of extra body weight into the teeny-tiniest corner of a bathroom is totally normal. Right?
I can't help it if I have a 3am urge to Google the best, natural solutions for getting rid of grease on my kitchen's range hood. Or if I find it to be a good investment to spend $40 to rent one of those huge carpet cleaning machines to make sure our flooring is clear of any electron-sized allergens. This is nature's cruel punishment to expectant moms, forcing us to get our nest ready for our chicks.
Truly, nesting is a natural
|See? Major improvement and totally necessary!|
"Dear," my husband says reasonably, "Do we really need to start taking apart these chairs at a quarter 'til midnight?"
Well... of course!
Besides, what else am I going to do? I'd rather have my brain on getting ready for baby's arrival instead of constantly having the freak out of WHAT AM I GETTING MYSELF INTO WITH THIS PARENTING THING?
Surely I'll mess up as a parent enough times in the first six weeks to fuel her therapy sessions later in life. But at least my baseboards will be the envy of Martha Stewart.
Upon my lists of "must-dos," I've included "spend quality time with my husband before our lives as us are seemingly over." While we've still managed to go out on a few dates and explore more of Los Angeles, I can't help but keep getting distracted by that naughty list of MUSTS:
*Purchase new sewing machine and fabrics to create perfect little dresses for baby
*Thoroughly organize all of my greeting cards by size, color, and theme
*Clean all the possible gunk off of our remote controls and electronics
*Decide which diapers will be the best/most affordable/earth-friendly/rash-depleting for my precious bambina.
And of course, I'm doing all this while trying to continually connect with my husband AND remain as Zen while prepping for my natural, beautiful experience of welcoming a new human into the world.
I've accepted that this is just where we are right now. And so far, my husband (who has not only humored me through this process but has assisted me when it comes to re-organizing everything down to the utensils in the kitchen because it "just makes sense"), has held up through all my craziness. Hey, at least I haven't sold our couch on a whim. (Oh! A great idea!)
I've become convinced. My husband's love, support and tolerance through my nesting - THIS is what true love is made of.
I just can't wait for our eventual reward of our little girl.
Who will no doubt poop all over my newly-scrubbed carpets in the first five minutes of her arrival.