Feathering the nest

I go into the nursery and look around, taking stock once again of what we have done and what still needs to be done. I mentally calculate costs and determine from which paycheck we will buy which items. And how many paychecks are left. Then I count the number of weekends are left for the projects that remain subtract how many of those weekends are designated for other things. And then I wonder how to cancel those other obligations so I can focus on getting things done at home.

Each week another section of the home is organized: a linen closet, a bathroom cabinet, a junk drawer, a dresser, a shoe rack. The urge to organize comes upon me randomly and suddenly and I just give in to them as they come and stop when the feeling passes.

I make lists. I make more lists. I cross things off and add more items. I’m forever throwing away lists and making new ones.

Inside my head I plan menus of meals to cook ahead and freeze. I tell myself “this weekend I need to start.” And I wonder if I need meals for two weeks or for six and I chide myself since my freezer isn’t remotely big enough. I divide meals into two smaller foil pans each so that we don’t eat lasagna for a week. And this is still, all in my head. And then I mentally remind myself to remind Kevin to make his corn chowder that only he can make taste good. And to divide it into two smaller batches so we’re not eating corn chowder for a week either. I fear boredom with my food.

I set up clothes for myself and the baby and neatly fold them into piles. Next to them are items for the hospital. I wonder if the outfit I picked for the baby is going to fit- if it will allow us to easily put the baby into the car seat and if it will irritate the umbilical stump. I worry about things like this. Nearby is a suitcase. I wonder what else I should pack for the hospital. Then I pack it and unpack it. Thinking about what is missing, what I still need. I know I should have it in the car and this bothers me.

We’ve bought the car seat and base and stroller frame and discuss where to get it installed and then inspected to make sure it is properly and safely hooked up. And in the meantime, it sits on our table in the breakfast nook- three huge boxes. That corner of the house has become an unintentional box stockade of fort-building potential.

We review the registry list and debate about what to add, what to remove. Did we register for too much? Not enough? Not enough of the important things and too much of the unimportant things? Then we wonder how do you know the difference?

Everything offered to us by others, we’ve accepted gladly, with the deepest appreciation and trepidation that our house is going to become a baby emporium. I harbor unrealistic fantasies that the baby stuff will stay in the baby’s room. I don’t dare tell other mom’s this because I know they will laugh and give me that knowing look, having thought the same things themselves, once upon a time when they too were naïve like me.

Organizing. Acquiring. Listing. Re-organizing. Re-acquiring. Re-listing. Feathering. Nesting. Night after night, weekend after weekend. Trying to ready things and ready our home.