I've been told throughout my pregnancy that towards the end of it, the mom-to-be will begin a process called "nesting". This involves arranging, folding, rearranging and refolding things having to do with the baby or the house or anything that can be folded or rearranged. Naturally, being the ultra hip, ultra cool, and super goth chick that I am, I scoffed at these notions; saying, "The day I start to nest is the day that I vote Republican and start wearing Laura Ashley dresses". Me? Nest? I'm too busy hanging skeletons and bats on the baby room wall! I'm too preoccupied with the newest dance track they're playing at the clubs I can't go to since I've gotten pregnant! I'm too focused on making sure that I have enough black nailpolish and hair dye to last me before I go into labor! NESTING?!?!?! Not me, not I, I am extremely too cool for that. Let the birds nest, I'll be fine right here.
So I thought............................
I admit it. I'm nesting. With a little more than 2 weeks to go before I am due to deliver (trust me I think he may come early), I have become what I have feared most: A Nester! Let's see, I have folded, unfolded, REfolded, UNfolded again to look at ALL the baby's clothes, blankets, sheets, socks, onesies, you name it. They have all been uber-folded and hung up by: color, style, relevance to gender, animal types, vehicle types, short sleeve, long sleeve, cute, not-so-cute, etc. etc. Randy thinks I have completely lost it. I also decided to rearrange the baby's room which led to me spending half a day moving stuff around (that I should not have been moving in the first place) only to put the room back together EXACTLY the way it started out as. All of our video games have now been alphabetized, BY CATEGORY, and I spent 2 hours last night renaming the files in my accordion file and arranging all of my taxes and bill receipts by date. I even COLOR CODED them! At one point, Randy came into the room and accused me of nesting. I told him flat out that he was crazy and that I wanted a divorce. He laughed, of course, knowing that it was crazy pregnant lady talk and informed me that in the entire time we have been together he has NEVER seen me rearrange the file folder. Ok, fine, he's right, I AM nesting.
Today, I have big plans. I dreamt about rearranging Randy's closet, so after I do his laundry today I'm coing to arrange EVERYTHING by color. Not because I'm nesting. No. Not nesting. I just have this "urge" (insert sarcasm here).
Ok fine. I admit it. The uber goth chick is nesting. I am nesting. I refuse to vote Republican, but I may consider wearing Laura Ashley if she made some of her frilly crap in black and red, as it may pass as goth-ish, kinda Stevie Nicks circa 1984 when she was obsessed with owls.