Nesting

Inspirational song: Grandma's Feather Bed (John Denver)

There is a biological imperative, as a pregnant mama reaches the end of her term, to prepare a nest for the impending arrival. I've felt it myself, going a little nuts at the end of a pregnancy, getting a nursery ready, cleaning house compulsively, recognizing the frantic preparations as signs of impending labor. I've seen it in action on the kitten cams I watch, when the uncomfortable, round catermelons (I did not invent that word) go from hanging out on window sills to burrowing on the blankets set up by the ultimate cat foster mom Shelly, whose streaming cat videos I watch. For that matter, I have noticed Shelly getting a bit anxious herself, and preparing the nests, changing them around every few hours while she waits for the cats to pop. I don't think nesting is merely a hormonal response to late term pregnancy. It's a natural reaction to a much-anticipated arrival, not relegated only to only the women carrying the little ones.

I had the kids over for dinner again tonight, and I had spent the last three days going through that nesting phase all over again in anticipation of my daughter coming over. The house looks entirely different than it did about this time Thursday night. Several walls are painted, and there are even rooms that are more or less finished. The painting is done in the piano bar and dining room as of this morning, and I wrapped up the bedroom days ago. Furniture is starting to fall into place. This afternoon, for the first time since we closed on the house, I was able to focus more on cleaning than merely shoving half-full moving boxes around to be inspected later. I located the first three paintings to be hung, and set two of them where they belong. Finally, I am able to unwind and enjoy the view.

Moving every two to four years taught me well not to dally in setting up a house. You make it feel like a home as quickly as you can, to get past the stress and panic of leaving the last place right at the moment you started really feeling like you belonged there. This move was weird, with the six week break in the middle while we lived in an apartment where I refused to settle in. Each day seemed to drag while I was out of my comfort zone, with so few of my familiar pieces around me. I can't believe we haven't been out of the Park two calendar months yet. It already feels like a lifetime ago. Yet as I finish adding color here and push furniture into place, this house feels as familiar to me as if I have lived here most of my life. My nesting is nearly complete. There are still dozens of boxes to sort, but the home aspect is nearly ready. It feels like me. It feels like my family. That's all I needed.