This month, the month of March, is the estimated month for the arrival of our baby. I refuse to provide a specific due date and it’s driving people crazy, which is way more fun than I would have thought. Spring has arrived early. I hope that is not an indication of the baby’s arrival. That’s probably unusual for most third trimester mothers-to-be, but I’m perfectly happy waiting a few more weeks. I’m not too uncomfortable. I mean, I waddle. I need a shove to get up off the couch. Otherwise, I’m doing okay.
I did have a calf cramp the other night that got me squirming around the bed like a worm on hot concrete. I could only get out unintelligible grunts and groans before my husband woke up. He asked if it was the baby. No, it’s my GD calf! By that time I was crying and really ticked off, which only made him laugh, which only made me laugh. So not fair. He asked that I try to handle my future labor pains a bit better than the calf cramp. Can you sense the sarcasm in our relationship? Besides that incident, I’m pretty much a bloated version of my old self. Well, there is that nesting thing going on.
Okay, I may have experienced a panic attack this weekend when I felt like our “nest” was not full enough. I don’t even know what that means. What’s in a nest? And why am I being associated with a bird? I’ll tell you right now, this bird ain’t flying anytime soon. I can maybe see that I resemble to a panda bear…hippopotamus…or maybe a kangaroo. T-rex? All non-flying creatures. No nests. I mean I need to take a wide angle to get around corners of walls. I scratched my car for the first time ever when I pulled into a parking spot at the grocery store last week. Now, the car can’t be getting wider, so I’m not sure what’s the deal. There is simply nothing graceful going on here.
My panic attack was followed by a trip to Lowe’s, Kohl’s, Target and the local greenhouse. For some reason, I needed to buy a few herb plants. Yes, as in oregano, sage, lavender and rosemary. You know, the essentials. This made absolute, perfect sense at the time. I also needed more lighting in the baby’s room and various other random things. I pretty much massacred my budget for the month. My husband took it all in stride. He only questioned the second vacuum cleaner. The argument that we needed one on every floor didn’t fly. He also went with me to the cloth diaper class. Seriously. I don’t know if he felt I shouldn’t be left alone or he just wanted to make sure I didn’t spend more money. He did, however, ask the presenter when the nesting phase would end. Her response – it only gets worse. He deserved that.
So, what’s my deal? My mom only mentioned an urge to vacuum the house, not this “I can take on Martha Stewart and any other crazy multi-tasking bitch out there.” I also wonder about my grandmother’s nesting fetishes. Did she milk some cows? Preserve some fruit? I mean, she was living on a farm. Actually, I recall that she never felt great throughout her pregnancies. All five of them. She did name all five children starting with the letter “R”. I could never figure that one out. I think I have an awesome name picked out, but it’s a secret until the birth. Maybe my grandchildren will question my sanity years from now. Oh, well. Maybe I don’t need more time to nest and an early arrival would be okay. For now, I’m going on an ice cream run. Peace out mommies and happy nesting.