This morning as he was getting dressed, Ben was checking out my belly. He squinted his eyes, pursed his lips, and then said the following:
B: Mom? Your belly is like a yo-yo. You know, it's round and it's gone WAAAAAYYYY out, but it'll go back again.
H: Gee, thanks. I think.
B: (looks a little closer) Actually, Mom? I think it's more like a boomerang because it's going to take a LONG, LONG time to come back.
So, we've been home from Spring Break long enough for me to not remember how long we've been home. But, about 2 days after we got back, I made some comment about how "after spring break" we really needed to get serious about getting the baby's room ready.
As in, "We need to clean out 10+ years worth of accumulated crap in the office, take down the desk, haul anything we're keeping to storage, get the water damage/hole in the ceiling fixed, repair a couple of holes in the walls, paint the room, prime and paint the trim, paint the ceiling, install a new light fixture, make sure we have the hardware for the crib, get the crib from my parents' basement, order the bedding, and, and, and...." Then, I said, "If Ben is going to get bunk beds, maybe he'd like new sheets, a new comforter, and heck, we should probably paint his entire room, too. Oh, and those are being delivered in a little over a week, so we'd need to hurry."
Sure. Why not. Because I've never been in better physical shape and I can stay awake for hours and hours working on such things. I have a keen sense of balance and nothing will prevent me from bending over to paint and moving heavy objects. And, Don? He's home ALL THE TIME, so we should definitely take on a couple of house projects that we'd like done yesterday.
But, guess what? We're 99.9% finished with Ben's total room makeover (which included covering up "baby" yellow walls, trim, and ceiling). Only the trim is left to paint and that would have been done today if I could have gotten the darn paint can open. The holes in the wall in the baby's room have all been patched and primed. We've chosen the paint color, the bedding has arrived, the crib is ready, and we've HIRED a delightful human to fix the ceiling and paint the room.
This all comes with a minimal amount of crying, tantrums, emergency trips to the chiropractor, or sudden panic attacks. Ben is THRILLED with his new room (I'll post pictures soon). I feel all warm and fuzzy that the baby's room has been transformed from a disorganized, rarely used office into a space that will be perfect for a new baby.
All this activity has really kicked my nesting urge into high gear. Now, truth be told, I've always been a little OCD about certain things. I like the towels to be straight on the hook. I use a hand towel to wipe off the counters and sink and "tidy up" in a hotel before the maids come in each day. I have yelled at my child to get out of my fresh vacuum tracks.
Evidently, nesting isn't just for mommies. For the past two days, Ben has taken time each morning to painstakingly make his bed and then smooth his comforter so that all the stripes are perfectly straight. This morning, I watched him move a pillow three different times to make sure it was in just the right spot. I should be more than a little horrified, but I'm more than a little amused and proud. Maybe there's even hope for others in the family. The dog will start willingly wiping her paws when she comes in the house. The cat will begin only shedding over a trash can. And, maybe Don will catch a little nesting from me and finally understand why I'm so obsessed with wiping down the stainless steel sink in the kitchen anytime we run water so that it looks like it's never used. Maybe not.
