Nesting

It's becoming quite real.

I had an ob apptmt this Tuesday, and was told that at this point, there would be very little worry or extra preparation necessary if the baby showed up early. Today I'm 34 weeks and 2 days pregnant. And little Bear's little lungs are getting close to done, suckling reflex is ready. Now it's just a matter of cute-ing up with pudgy baby fat and maybe hair, and brain development (which will all continue no matter what).

In other news, yesterday was the school field trip, which I opted out of. I graded and got my bangs trimmed, and went to Target to stock up on popsicles (90*F!) and cleaning supplies.

I got a scrub brush and last night had a ball squatting and kneeling to scour the shower floor of mineral deposits with scrub brush and toothpaste (I'm avoiding harsh fumes, and mint appealed more than vinegar, so it seemed logical at the time). The weird part of nesting is how satisfying it is. I was more comfortable on hands and knees scrubbing the heck out of that poor shower than I was laying on my side, reading. I realize part of this is due to the weight of uterus and baby hanging forward instead of compressing side abs, all the more reason to keep up with prenatal yoga practice. But another big part of it is the activity, and knowing that I'm getting something done that needs doing. The satisfaction of seeing ivory appear from under rusty iron and calcium, and knowing that our home is that much more ready to have a tiny new human in it.

I also found space in my winter clothes underbed storage for the professional clothes I'd left on the baby's changing table, and folded and packed away the extra linens and comforters previously cluttering up the bedroom. Ah. The baby space reclaimed, I slept.

Of course, this morning J set the fox's harness and leash on the baby changing desk and I kind of lost it at him with a shocked "That does not belong there! You are getting LEASHgerms on the BABYthings!" Which, to be fair, the fox leash does go everywhere, mainly the ground where dogs relieve themselves, and never really gets washed. It might get wet but rarely soapy, and has it ever had a thorough sterilizing autoclavey run through detergent and high heat? No.

Anyhow, J admitted that we shouldn't set the harness there, and I scurried to remove the offensive thing, place it in its home by the front door, then promptly washed the whole desk. I was about to start washing all the furniture in the room, when I realized I had to go to work.

At this point I'm pretty sick of my job obligations. While I grade and organize my year's lesson plans, the kids are off scot free. I am trying to turn that into motivation to finish. Once it's done, it's done. But cleaning to procrastinate has such a strong pull lately, that it's difficult to resist the draw of a scrub brush and soap bucket. Which reminds me- what I really need is baking soda.