Building a nest (and a nursery)

As I waddled in to my doctors office 38 weeks pregnant, hot, bothered and uncomfortable I slumped into the chair and sighed "Is it nearly over?"

"Have you cleaned out the cupboards, organised them twice and polished all the doors and handles?" He replied.

"No"

"Then you're not ready' He laughed jovially 'You haven't even nested." 

Unfortunately, he was right, I still had three weeks to go and unbeknown to me, there was nesting to do.

Nesting is a strange thing that happens to women in the later states of pregnancy.  A primitive like urge to prepare your home for this new being that is about to enter it. 

We were getting ready to move house shortly after our baby was going to be born, why would I need to get the house ready if we were going to move anyway? I didn't need to nest. I didn't believe in nesting for the first 38 weeks of my pregnancy. My house was clean, the nursery was ready, the tiny clothes had been washed and I thought I was prepared. 

Then 38.5 weeks came, three more days and I was a completely different person. A woman on a mission. My vision was heightened, dust that I couldn't see days ago was suddenly illuminated around the house, spots on the windows ate away at me, it was like a switch had gone off and out of nowhere I was in the 'nesting phase'. 
I started with the timber venetian blinds, I dusted and polished every one in the house. As I dusted the blinds the windows seemed to become dirtier by the minute so that was my next job. When the windows were finally clean, then came the kitchen. The pantry was emptied and organised, followed by the same treatment to each of the cupboards. In hindsight, climbing onto the kitchen bench 39 weeks into the pregnancy just for the sake of a clean cupboard was probably not a good idea, but clearly, all rational thought had left my head. 

The house was sparkling clean all ready for the due date, the nursery was not what I wanted but I was waiting until we moved into the new house for that. I spent the morning of the due date waiting, I was convinced our baby would be on time, I hate being late so surely he or she would have inherited my punctuality. When 12.00 rolled around, still no baby and no sign of labour, I thought it would be a good time to get started on the garden. There I was, 40 weeks pregnant, on all fours in the front yard pulling weeds. With my balance and centre of gravity completely out of whack, I used my bucket full of weeds to stand up from my bent over gardening pose, getting into an upright position was slow and awkward, there was nothing yoga-esque or glamorous about it. I looked ridiculous, and I continued to look ridiculous until all the weeds were gone. Although as awkward as they were,  I enjoyed my days in the garden, day-dreaming of my baby, feeling him kick as I crawled from plant to plant. The days went quickly and by the time I was finished the garden looked beautiful and I had dreamt up what I wanted the new nursery to look like.

The garden, the house and the ideas for our soon to be new house were finally ready for me to have this baby.

The next day, at 41 weeks, I went into labour and our beautiful boy was born. By the time I came home from hospital the weeds were already growing back and it had rained so all the windows were once again filthy. There was washing that needed to be folded and put away and I realised, life in my house had not stopped just because I had gone off to have a baby. 

Two months after we brought our boy home we moved house, we packed up everything we owned and nesting had to begin again in the new house. Although this time it was less about instinct and more about it just needing to be done. When you are sleep deprived and breastfeeding every three hours your priorities tend to shift from needing everything spotlessly clean to simply needing a rest. The windows weren't cleaned for weeks after we moved in and now seem to be continuously dirty, someone has developed a tendency of licking them, and no, we do not have a dog. The garden is a work in progress and the cupboards are randomly arranged in a way that all baby friendly items, such as tupperware and pots, are low and all non baby friendly items, such as knives and graters, are high. It is fitting that the only nesting that really happened in this house was in my son's room. The rest of the house was just arranged and unpacked but his room was planned and created, a colourful little sanctuary. I can only hope that when he is big enough he will love it as much as I do.

                               

It's funny the things we do, or think is necessary to do, in preparation to bring a baby into our lives. The baby can't see the spots on the windows or the dust on the shelves, the baby can barely see at all. All the baby wants is it's parents and if you are in the house then the house is perfect as is. 

I don't know whether it was to kill the time while I waited for the baby or whether it was instinct, maybe a combination of the two, either way, nesting made me feel ready to become a mother. Next time I don't think I will nest, I know I won't have the time. I already am a mother as long as I have some clean clothes, both for the baby and myself, and some frozen meals prepared I will be as ready as I can be.

Eight common phrases

The presence of a busy eight month old has changed the language we use on a daily basis in our home. With every passing of an object there is a 'ta' and whenever my husband gets home there is an over the top excited 'daddy's home!!' 

Here are the most popular sentences I say on a daily basis, my top eight. By top eight I mean, I say these things constantly, over and over, some days it feels like these are the only sentences that come out of my mouth. 

1. Where are you off to?

The kitchen usually, or the washing machine, just need to check it is all still there and all those buttons are still flashing at me. 
Now that Leo has taken off I spend my day chasing. There is no such thing as staying in one place for ten minutes. He is busy and inquisitive. In many ways the immobile days, although extremely frustrating for Leo, were so much easier. Back then, I could quickly go make the bed or hang out the washing and know where he was at all times. Now, all I can do is hope that we have baby proofed well enough that he won't find too much trouble, oh and of course rush. A more mobile child equates to a more efficient mother, dinners are made either quickly or in segmented parts, cleaning usually happens baby on hip with one hand and hair and makeup takes a total of five minutes, if it happens at all. 

2. Where is your sock?

One sock is always missing, the other dangling on the foot looking like it is close behind. You would think that making the effort to buy 'stay on socks' that is what they would do, stay on, but somehow I am always looking for that missing sock. Asking my son where it is as if he will look at me and say 'I just left it over there Mum'. 
So it is a constant battle, sock goes on, sock goes missing, sock goes on, gets pants tucked into it surely that is more secure, other sock goes missing, sock gets found, goes back on, pants tucked in, wait where is the other sock? And so on...
Needless to say I am constantly finding odd socks amongst the toys, typically after I have done all of  the washing.

3. Do you smell?

A question usually asked simultaneously with lifting my son up and smelling his pants, or on the busy days, chasing him around the room trying to catch a wiff.
A completely ridiculous and disgusting thing to do if done to an adult yet, as a parent, you don't even think about it. You'll do it anywhere, at home, with friends, in public, it's subconscious. You won't even know you are doing it, you won't be able to remember when you started doing it. It just happens. Then for some reason you'll talk about it like it is a completely normal thing to talk about, no one you know wants to talk about nappy changes and the bowel movements of your child but you don't care you'll talk about it anyway. Then it happens, that's when it hits you, that is when you realise you are someone's parent.

4. Nuh-uh, not for babies.

Warning to all parents to be. As soon as your baby begins to move a small baby whispering fairy goes through your house and highlights all the things they are not supposed to touch.

 

Power points, bookcases, cables, fireplaces, the oven, all bright and sparkly endeavours that they must touch, lick, and climb. Basically anything that you can foresee as dangerous or a bit questionable they will find it, put it in their mouths and see how far it will go down. The saying 'Curiousity killed the cat' will take on a whole new meaning as you learn that babies are curious beings and they will stop at nothing to touch that forbidden item. They are relentless. You may think taking them into another room will be distraction enough, wrong, once they have acquired an untouchable target and they know where that target is, they'll come back to it, most likely when you are not looking.  
Another word of warning, babies have selective hearing, I swear. 'Nuh-uh not for babies' means nothing, you might as well hold your breath, but say 'Do you want a drink?' and they will come crawling as quick as they can...Funny that.

5. No biting.

Now that there are five, almost six, razor like teeth in my little boy's mouth this is said a bit too much for my liking. My husband says it is a term of endearment, as apparently I am the only one worth biting, the small teeth shaped marks on my arms and legs don't see it that way. 
Biting while breastfeeding is a whole other pain that I need not bore nor torture you with.

6. Oh, you're tired.

You must be, I am and you're much smaller than me.

Apparently day time sleeps are overrated and fighting sleep is just so much fun. So we play, we read and we walk, we do all these things expecting fatigue to set in and take over but there are just too many new and exciting things in the world to discover. 
He could be rubbing his eyes every two minutes, his head could be taking little rests on the floor and the tired stares might have set in but there is no way he is sleeping. Being awake is just so much fun.

7. Bbbpppphhhhhwwwwwwww.

Otherwise known as raspberries.
No explanation necessary.

8. You're so beautiful/clever/gorgeous/strong.

At the risk of raising an arrogant child he is told constantly how mind bogglingly beautiful he is, it is repetitive, but what can I say, it's true. He is gorgeous and he should know about it. 

When you are pregnant you wonder what your baby will look like, who will they take after? Who's eyes? Who's colouring? But it is truly impossible to imagine how beautiful they will be. A perfect blend of genes to make this tiny human. It doesn't matter who's eyes they got, or who's colouring. All their little features are now their own and they are glorious. So why not tell them about it?