Having had two inductions and a ton of work/school obligations at the end of my first three pregnancies, I've never noticed the classic "nesting" phenomenon they tell you about in the books. It would have been great, because late pregnancy is usually when I start behaving like a queen ant, parking myself in the ass-print I've been making on the couch for the last five months and demanding Ryan bring me cookies and glasses of water. This does not mean good things for the general state of cleanliness into which we bring a new life (and all the chaos associated with that).
Usually sometime around the time the baby is six months old I wake up to the slovenly surroundings and morph into a crazed drill sergeant for a weekend until the laundry is under control, the kitchen has been Mr. Clean-ed within an inch of its life, the flower beds are pristine, and my entire family is annoyed with me and suddenly very busy with that thing they had to do in another part of the house with the thing.
But this time is different. I don't know if it was because I handed the entirety of the month of June over to work and travel or if it's actually nesting, but the last week has been incredibly productive (by my, admittedly low, standards).
Don't get me wrong, I still feel like ass almost all the time, but suddenly it's like that doesn't really matter because what DOES matter is that giant pee stain behind the kids' potty upstairs (which I knocked out with a little bit of Comet and a lot of grunting yesterday). Or the disgusting toothpaste buildup on the master bathroom vanity (I was en fuego with the Comet yesterday). Or the fire hazard conditions in the big boys' room (I had to skip Sunday school, but managed to take out two bags of trash and three loads of laundry). Or the situation with all the sheets upstairs, which have now been changed and the extra sets washed on the boiling water, beaten against a rock setting on the washer, dried on hot, and put away. Toilets, drip marks on the kitchen floor, handprints on windows, one inexplicable FOOT print on the wall-mounted bathroom mirror, nothing has been spared.
I've done fun stuff too, like put away all the teensy little pastel-colored things in the nursery dresser. After doing the sweet little soft flowery jammies and onesies I opened the pants drawer and discovered a hidden cache of navy and khaki boy pants that suddenly seemed absurdly large and heavy duty. I stared at them in confusion for a moment and then almost threw the whole pile in the Goodwill bin before realizing that they belonged to James, who is only going to be a baby for two more weeks (SAD!).
But seriously, look at this room.
We got the bed, a wonderful solid oak sleigh bed with a barely used, incredibly comfy mattress, on Craigslist and it is now the nicest thing we own. If there is a wildfire and we have to evacuate, we will take the kids, Rossby, the deed to our house, and that bed.
And possibly also these ducks.
There is more "Make Way for Ducklings" themed art on its way from the magical land of Etsy (very tricky making you check out each item individually so that you have no clue how much money you've spent, veerrrrry clever).
The only thing that remains is vacuuming and ain't no way I'm going to attempt to get that thing up the stairs by myself. I'm limiting my self-induction strategies to carrying James around the house and walking more, not falling down the stairs.