mom{ma duck} ?

When I first heard the term, I thought of a little bird, carrying twigs in her beak and bringing worms to feed her chicks.

Nesting.

It's the name they give to a pregnant woman's urge to prepare her home for her family's new arrival. "They" say it can happen any time during pregnancy. Some women feel the need to scrub their floors with a toothbrush, while 9 months pregnant, at 2 o'clock in the morning. Others do a million loads of laundry, or cook carb-heavy casseroles that can be stuck in the freezer and pulled out for dinner after baby is born. I've read about women cleaning faucets with q-tips, painting ceilings that really didn't need to be painted, or organizing linen closets by color or texture.

"Nesting" sounds ridiculous, hm? Besides the fact that the term makes me feel like a momma duck, I don't like the thought that my life could be controlled by irresistible urges to clean something. Blech.

But then, it happened.

My first victim... A very sad-looking, Oscar-the-Grouch-colored ottoman. It had sat in our apartment, covered in a cheery blanket, for eighteen solid months. I was happy with it. It could be spilled on and sat on, and I didn't care. But then, something crazy kicked in {i.e., a little bambino started growing in my belly}, and a month ago I decided that I couldn't live one. more. day. with that ugly-looking ottoman in my possession. I went nuts: fabric, buttons, foam, spray paint, staple gun.

Here's the finished product:

Pretty, right?

This would all be well and good, if I left well-enough alone. But since I'm 6 months pregnant and currently don't have a house to clean {yes, we're still renovating...}, I've taken to upholstering, sewing, designing, and accumulating. You could probably call it decor-nesting. Which, yes, makes it sounds even more ridiculous.

Exhibits B and C: I reupholstered a pull-out sleeper sofa in white canvas. And sewed a few new pillow covers for good measure.


Exhibit D: My collection of paint samples, and doodles of floor plans, furniture placement, even down to where I want the lamps. {seriously? does anyone else do that?}


Exhibit F: A very chic tealight lantern that I found on sale... at a store I'd normally never go into... because the only people who go into stores like that are flustered moms with crabby toddlers in tow.


I could keep going, but I'll spare you.

The crazy thing is, this is not me. I don't spend my evenings sitting at the sewing machine, or hand-stiching pillowcases, or browsing through the IKEA catalog for the nine-hundreth time, or dreaming about rugs and paint colors. What's even more weird? Before, I was practical. Neutral tones. Dark carpeting that won't stain. Safe, comfortable colors. But now? Everything I'm buying is a shade of creamy white. White fabric. White sofas. White curtains. It defies all logic. {i.e., white couch + small child = total destruction, right?}

I should also mention that since there's not much work I can do at our house {who knew a pregnant woman shouldn't hang drywall?}, I've taken to painting things that don't really need to be painted, and organizing the work area. Marty tells me that never before has he seen a more orderly pile of hammers, drills, and circular saws.

This baby thing has thrown me for a loop.

{painting our back porch...}



Any other moms out there who can relate? I'd love to hear from you. We can start a support group... {I'll bring the ice cream. And a staple gun.}

:)