Pregnancy includes “nesting hormones” that supposedly make pregnant women want to fix up their homes, preparing for the baby to come.
My nesting, in the past few months, has included refinancing our mortgage, gardening, cleaning out our file cabinets, recycling my old notes from graduate school, scrubbing the grout from between the bathroom tiles, taking more than 10 bags of donations to our local thrift store (including 40 books that I will never read again), setting up the baby’s room 2 months before I had to, attempting to finish my manuscript revisions before the baby arrives, acquiring more baby stuff than we may ever use (hooray for hand-me-downs), freezing fourteen re-purposed yogurt containers full of homemade soups we will eat after the baby arrives when we’ll have little time to cook, and also signing myself up for life insurance.
Ben has been nesting too. His nesting: brewing a keg of beer that will be ready to drink when the baby is born, fixing the broken fence-gate and leaky toilet, spending a lot of time drawing & dancing with Sophie, spending more time surfing, going on a week-long trip to a mountain-bike race in Northern California, and, this weekend, attempting to hike Southern California’s three highest mountain peaks in one crazy 24-hour surge.
Okay, I realize those last three may not count as nesting. But, trust me, they are. Just like my cooking all those 14 soups, Ben is squeezing in what he enjoys now, while he has free time. I hope it stores up well enough to last him through the fall.