The end is coming near for us. Soon we’ll have a new little one joining our family. Our children have anxiously watched this little one grow from a tiny blip on the ultrasound to a full sized beach ball that moves and kicks them when they try to sit close to Mom.
Technically, I still have two months left. But with early labor imminent, it could be any day now. And the nesting has begun.
Oh, not for me, the Mom. For my husband.
Anxious to finish the downstairs master bedroom, he now wants us fully moved downstairs by this weekend. “Get the Lazy Boy steam cleaned too, would you? The sooner, the better, okay?” I reply with an ‘okay’ but am not motivated in the least to call. “Oh, and would you find the crib so I can set it up?” Another ‘sure’ until I find the crib is piled behind box after box after box of Christmas decorations, old baby clothes, and other odds and ends.
For me, lately it’s been enough just to try to manage last minute homework projects, dance lessons, end of year field trips our monthly bills and more. Not sleeping at night and being up all day going and going is exhausting to me. Adding extra projects on is really hard. But I’m doing it.
I’ve never been a nester. I’m not the one who gets this strange desire to start cleaning the whole entire house top to bottom in anticipation of baby’s arrival. I wish I were, but I’m not. I should know the drill. Have my bags packed for the hospital now and be ready. But I’m not. What is wrong with me?? Why have my husband and I switched roles?? it’s quite puzzling to me.