Nesting at 37 weeks

I subscribe to various online Pregnancy sites that send me reminders of things like appropriate exercises for my ever changing form for week such and so (though, honestly, my excitement of the exercise phase lasted and then imploded around week 26), or what the baby is doing at week such and so, or my "3D Pregnancy Calendar." I have to admit, I like this one because it comes a day earlier than the others and has a different twist because you can see what the baby looks like (animated-wise, anyway) in "3D", and it's very optimistic in its little peppy "you can do it because your body is amazing! Your baby is amazing! Look what's going on! And your partner is amazing! Check it out!" attitude.

In fact, under the header of "Your Body" this is what it said:

You made it! Your baby is considered full term at the end of this week. So kick your swollen feet up and swig back a glass of lemonade. All that hard work has finally paid off!

When I read that, you know what I did, Gentle Reader? Did I go and get me that glass of lemonade? Nope. Did I kick up my swollen feet? Nope (at least, not yet). Here's what I did: I burst into tears. Right into the UGLY CRY I did go. I cannot explain it, but it's like seeing the finish line after running a long race that you were prepared for, had every confidence of finishing, but were getting a little bogged down towards the end. So, I had a nice cry and was quite grateful that no one else was in the room with me so I could pull it together before I had to face the children or the laundry again.

Speaking of laundry, today's little newsletter also talked about "nesting." This is where you supposedly clean like a crazy person to get ready for your new arrival. I kind of have to laugh at this, because what's going on with me is that I see ALL sorts of things that need to be done, but I only have the energy right now to keep up the normal every day tasks. For example, I did the dishes today. The extra step I took was that I washed my plastic cup collection (actually, I just brought down and washed all the plastic cups that migrated upstairs when I took them full of water for the night). I've done several loads of laundry, but the extra step is that I actually folded and put some of it away (talk to Super J, he'll tell you that's nigh unto nesting right there for me).

I'm even trying to keep a happy attitude about the state of my living room. My sweet Misses, bless their hearts, have taken over my living room with Polly Pockets, Barbies, Mermaids and Lego's. So whilst the living room/dining room start out somewhat tidy, it's bedlam by the time I get up from my afternoon nap. I mean, crazy whirlwind of toys all over the floor bedlam along with a fort made from the blankets and chairs, type of thing. If someone came to the door expecting to come in, I'd be embarrassed by the state of my space. I want to be cranky at the girls for not cleaning up after being LEFT ALONE downstairs for A COUPLE OF HOURS, but I'm actually just really grateful that they are playing so well with each other that I get over myself pretty quick.

I should add: they truly aren't alone because they know they can come get me at any time, and I keep my door open and an ear out for them, but they quite contentedly play and know that after a certain show, they can go and get a snack from the "snack box." Anyway, you see where I'm going with this. It's just actually very comforting knowing that I can take a break and they are responsible enough to, while spreading their toys everywhere with much glee, don't do anything besides just untidy two areas of the house. It could be so so so much worse.

But it kinda saps away my "nesting" energies because every day we must clean up Polly and Barbie and "Shelly" (aka: Miss E's beloved Mermaid) and everyone/thing else who is put through their playing paces during the afternoon. So, though I see that the baseboards need to be cleaned and the wood floors need to be mopped with their special wood floor cleaner, and the blinds need to be dusted...well, I just prioritize and try to realize that we'll all make it through if we can just get Polly and Barbie and Shelly picked up.

And so goes nesting. Oh well.

Maybe it's just time to go kick up my swollen feet.