12 October, 2009  |   Comment

Nesting

James paints the nurseryHormones, what with all the tears and anchovy sandwich cravings I’ve had while you put yourself together.

Lately, the nesting urge has struck, hard. It’s tough when I’m home all day, seeing the disorganized pantry, the dog fur covered stairs, feeling the laundry there, UNFOLDED. This doesn’t take into account that I am only working for a few more weeks until you join us outside of my body.

Baby, I’m not quite sure I’ve ever been as busy in my life as these recent months. Client work, book assembly, big Cheesewhizzes plans, bocce, cookbook club, mothering and more client work. Adding this urge to nest on top of that, well, nesting has been second-important.

But it’s this grumbly urge — this need that goes deeper than just launching a web site or finishing a layout. It’s primal. And completely insane.

I want to welcome you the way I welcomed your sister.


Hooray for replies!