This is the purpose of nesting

Trip to BabiesRUs: 1 Boppy, 1 manual pump (with 15% off coupon), 1 box breast pads, and 3 sleepers (ducks, frogs, monkeys, all sooooo cute).

Trip to Target: 1 inexpensive bathrobe, 1 comfy nursing top, 1 pair low rise maternity yoga pants (low rise enough to accommodate potential C-section incision — I like to be prepared), 6 pair cheap socks for me, 6 pair socks for baby, 1 monkey-printed sleeper/gown with matching hat, 1 tube Lansinoh, and 1 package wipes.

Stop at McDonalds: 1 large chocolate shake.

Three loads of laundry: 3 giant balls of lint.

Long walk with dog: 3 contractions (not painful, just Braxton-Hicks).

Given the last item on that list, I’ll call today a success, even if the contractions weren’t the real thing.

I think they call this nesting.

Yesterday, my work colleagues threw me a lovely little impromptu shower, and something about getting all “baby” at work really threw me into task mode.  After finishing a somewhat tedious assignment, I found myself furiously cleaning my office — shredding old paper, filing things that needed to be kept, scrubbing my desk. It was a little insane. And I haven’t really fallen out of task mode since.  My house is clean — we had a cleaning lady come this week because I am really not capable of scrubbing the floors/bathrooms/appliances any more — so I’ve been doing other things. Like:

  • I went to Costco and bought out the place
  • I went to Wegman’s and bought them out, too.
  • I had my car detailed.
  • I installed the car seat in my car (with Mr. D.’s help, of course).
  • I’m making cornbread for the cornbread dressing we’re having on Thanksgiving.
  • I washed a bunch of baby towels and receiving blankets and onesies.
  • I’m washing my own clothes right now.
  • I placed a giant order with Amazon for additional stuff that we really need — Pack-n-Play sheets, washcloths, Snappis (plastic diaper pin things), a baby grooming/healthcare kit.

And I really don’t feel inclined to stop yet. It’s like, what else needs to be done? What else can I do Right Now? Tomorrow, I plan to go to Target and Babies R Us (thankfully, they’re next door to each other in the shopping center we go to) and buy a bunch of stuff I’ll need for the hospital — an inexpensive nightgown and bathrobe, some socks, etc. — as well as a few remaining baby items — a Boppy, some fleece swaddles, baby socks, Lansinoh.

My fear is that, once I do all of that, I’ll really be Done, and then I’ll just be sitting around waiting to go into labor. I am not the most patient person under the best of circumstances; let me assure you that carrying this baby around has not improved that. I am tired and uncomfortable and none of my clothes fit, and all I really want is to meet our kid! If it’s really going to take another three weeks (when I’ll be induced if I don’t go into labor naturally), I am going to lose my mind.

Growing (green) things

I generally consider myself to have a black thumb — I kill plants. I have had any number of indoor and outdoor plants over the many years, and I have managed to kill every single one of them. And it’s not even that I kill them through neglect — I’ve killed plants that I was actively trying to nurture. I’m just not good at it. I lack the plant gene.

Except that somehow, I am now growing tomatoes. And mint. And cilantro (or I was, until it bolted, which I didn’t even know was a Thing until I read up on the internet about why my cilantro was flowering and creating seeds).

Now, the mint I can’t really take much credit for — in this part of the country, mint grows wild pretty easily, so I hoped that if I just stuck it in the ground, it would take care of itself. And it has. But tomatoes are just not that low-maintenance. Or at least I didn’t think they were. In my case, though, they really are growing themselves. I throw some water on them every few days if it hasn’t rained and otherwise leave them mostly alone.

Except that they are now so tall that they were really starting to droop. So today, I took myself and my black thumb over to Home Depot and bought tomato stakes (which…! I bought useful gardening implements? Who is this person?), came home, and spent an hour in the mid-afternoon sun (bad call on my part) staking and tying my oversized, out-of-control tomatoes.

Anyway, y’all. After I staked up those plants I realized — my tomatoes are INSANE. They are nearly as tall as I am and they are fruiting like mad. Like, I expect to have pints and pints and pints of Yellow Pear cherry tomatoes in just a few short weeks, when the several bunches of green fruit start to ripen. The other tomato plant — a Pink Brandywine — is not fruiting quite as madly (it’s not known for being as prolific, probably because it produces enormous fruit) but it’s still doing far, far better than I ever dreamed.

I don’t know how much of this gardening luck is due to where we live — after all, this area doesn’t get the temperature extremes that Austin or Chicago, my last two cities, experience — and how much of it is due to the fact that my in-laws, who do have the plant gene, were here to help us when we decided to put in a garden. Whatever it is, though, I’m enjoying it, even as I stare, bewildered, at the green things I am managing to grow.