I’ve been writing a journal to you since you were two months old, but I realized today that in the 3 1/2 months since, you’ve only gotten eight letters. That hardly seems enough to capture the good, the bad and the bizarre things that have happened to you and me since. And so… every Sunday I am going to write you a letter. Here we go.
The weird thing that happened a few weeks ago, which we haven’t really caught up on, is that your Mommy went crazy.
Someone send help for your Dad, because a demon occasionally takes over my body.
On the plus side… the house is getting tidier by the minute!
Okay, but seriously, I have no idea what happened. A few weeks ago, I was just living my life, going to my 20-week ultrasound, when suddenly the crazy train rolled into town. I kid you not, I came home from the appointment and just freaked out at the state of the home. Let’s get real here, it’s not like we live in a pigsty. Our house is messy, but it’s not dirty as such. Well, my preggo body wasn’t okay with that… not one bit.
I seriously do pity David, because I went from fine to freak in 0.02 seconds and he had no warning. To be fair, neither did I.
In the space of one weekend I did three loads of laundry, folded and put away said laundry (ahem, rarely happens in the same day), made peanut butter cookies, created a binder for our household bills in reverse chronological order, tidied my insane desk, cleaned the shower, spring-cleaned the bedroom, put seasonal clothes away, pulled together two bags of clothing donations for Value Village, washed our car inside and out (with David’s help), did all the dishes every day (miraculous), bought stuff for the baby, made the mother of all pre-baby project lists and literally drove my body to its breaking point.
My feet were pretty tired come Monday and my body needed a rest. If only I’d had my FitBit at that point, I wonder how many steps I (technically we) took in three days.
In talking to other moms, I found out that this little spurt of manic-obsessiveness is called nesting. For some people it means baking muffins, for others it’s making sure the nursery is ready within an inch of its life, and in my case it means that I want my home to be organized. If it doesn’t happen now, it’s sure as heck not going to happen when I’m sleep deprived and dreaming of coffee, now is it?
It’s bizarre, because logically I know that you won’t know if the house is organized. Even if you did know, you probably wouldn’t care. But I care. Correction, I now care in a way that I’d never have cared before. What the heck? My bigger question is how long this nesting/manic-freakishness period is going to last. I mean, there could be worse obsessions. Again, at least it’s productive, if exhausting. I just never expected my body and brain to be taken over so completely and in such a short space of time.
Nesting hasn’t been as crazy since, likely down to other stressors, but I still notice potential ‘projects’ around the house that I hope to get done before you make your grand appearance.
Love you loads, little baby. Can’t wait until you arrive.
Do you know a pregnant person that had a weird period of nesting? Are you that person? How did you handle it? How long did it last?