Nesting? It's Called Preparing!

I've heard a lot about how pregnant women "nest" -- the idea that they get all crazed by decorating like mad during the last trimester. And, frankly, like so many things I've been reading in books, websites, and in tea leaves, I think it's a little overblown.

It's not nesting, you crazy experts, it's called preparing. Painting rooms, buying furniture, preparing for the arrival of a new human being into your house is not that out of the ordinary. I mean, if your Aunt Lulu (who really can't look after herself anymore, not with the dizziness and all) was going to move in with you, wouldn't you try and make her room her own? Maybe throw a coat of paint on the walls. Buy a new comforter. Stock up on the adult sanitary underpants.

See what I mean?

So Kristen has been doing that. Unfortunately, because I had to work the last two weekends (once here in Chicago and this past one in Phoenix), I wasn't able to really help. But when I came home yesterday, I saw that she had tackled (and beaten) our various closets into submission, cleaning and organizing them to the point where we actually now know where everything is. The mop? Hallway closet. The winter coat I never wear? That's in the foyer closet. Seventy-five different ointments, balms, and salves that all smell worse than the next? Bathroom closet.

The one thing Kristen couldn't do, however, was Swiffering under the bed.

(An aside: I hate that term, Swiffering, when it's used as a verb. That's what they say on the commercials, but it just seems like terrible word construction to me. You should Swiff a room. With a Swiffer. Like you blend something. In a blender. You're not blendering. But I digress.)

You see, with Barnabas growing ever larger, Kristen's having a tough time getting up off the couch or the bed, and her having to get on the floor to reach all the vastness of under the king-size bed would be too much.

So yesterday, I go to the hall closet (where the Swiffer was waiting for me in its correct spot) and reach for one of the disposable dusting sheets. And there, on a shelf in the closet, is not one package of Swiffer sheets... not two... not even three... BUT FIVE PACKAGES OF SHEETS. All just waiting for us.

So what I'm saying is, the moral of this story, that nesting (or whatever it's called) is not only good for getting the place ready for the arrival of our new son, but also allows us to not have to buy any more Swiffer sheets for another 3 years.

Barnabas just saved us about $20! What a kid!