nesting

The night I finished the last of my Darling projects, I fell asleep on the sofa and had the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a good long while. (And by “best night’s sleep” I mean, I got up every four hours instead of two, and was able to sleep in past 6:30am because my hips were not throbbing with pain.)

I woke up happy, well-rested and with a sudden urge to organize. I washed the last of the new baby clothes. I tidied up the bathroom drawers, tossing out expired vitamins and toiletries. I arranged and rearranged the books on my nightstand.

By the time I got to the kitchen and found myself kneeling by the cabinet below the sink, sorting through the rows of cleaning supplies, folding paper bags and tying plastic ones into little neat knots, I realized, Oh, I’m nesting!

With the heroic help of our parents, many house tasks on our to-do list all summer have been accomplished at light speed. In just one week, the nursery—previously used as storage—has been cleared out. Boxes that have remained unmoved and unpacked since we first arrived in March have been emptied and dumped into the recycling bin. Bookcases have been built, and books have been shelved. Art has been hung.

The house is not just starting to feel like a home. It’s starting to feel like our home, and I cannot wait to bring our son into it.

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