Every preg book, course, and corny autogenerated e-mail I've received about pregnancy mentions the nesting phase. That phase when the expectant mother experiences a rise in energy and often goes on a rampage of cleaning, buying, and organizing, in preparation for baby. Even "Notes from the Underbelly" - the show that tries as hard to be funny as Lovey Loverpants and I try to stop watching it - addressed the phase of nesting whereby six months pregnant Lauren goes cuckoo in babyland, hoarding all kinds of layette and matchy matchy cribware. But really now. This is not some strange psychosis. Let's be a little less Victorian, shall we? Baby stuff is adorable and a simple gander through the H&M baby section compels me to hyperventilate and minutes later I find I'm being escorted out by security for drooling over all of the sweater vests in size 0-3 months. Baby stuff melts the hearts and shreds the wallets of the most staunchly anti-child among us. Also, the expectation of a baby is much like the expectation of a visit from the in-laws. Of course you're going to clean, of course you're going to exterminate the dust bunnies, of course you're going to want to organize your cabinets and inspect anything that may have expired three years ago, which somehow made the move from apartment to condo even though you don't even like that kind of boxed generic Mac and Cheese GOSH. But back to nesting, I just didn't think it sounded all that phenomenal, although I wondered when my reflex would kick in, and what kind of form it would take.
Picture Yours Truly Pregnant lying awake last night, my thoughts racing about short stories I needed to write before they got snowplowed up against the side of my brain by other preoccupations (see also: How I'm going to get back to France, How I can take over the Rachael Ray empire and eradicate the usage of YUM-O, How far of a drive is Tulsa, Oklahoma to the closest city). Lovey had been paged at the hospital, so I was left to obsess in the lonely cold bed or get up and try to fuel my obsessive thoughts into something else. At 12:30 p.m., I ate some leftover cinnamon rolls (man, those obsessive thoughts will build up an appetite). At 2 a.m. my bathroom cabinets were neat and tidy, with a new space allotment reserved for the wee one's various oils and lotions, etc. I then watched and cried at every episode of "I Propose" on OnDemand. By 3:30 a.m., Lovey came back home and into bed which made my nest felt a little more feathery and warm.
In other news, I think we have some new window shoppers here at kendraspondence.com. Please introduce yourselves and give me the opportunity to welcome you!