The Nesting Instinct

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I’m going into labor in about two weeks.

I have been on an organization, clean-up-this-house-if-it-kills-me kick for the past few days, probably spurred by the fact that the month of August was spent out gallivanting or hosting guests. In other words: The house was neglected.

As of this week, my dining room table was still piled high with last year’s homeschool curriculum and papers. The girls’ bedroom was a disaster, the kitchen table (aka “my office”) was littered with bills, papers, and CD’s to review.

And so, after the kids went to bed, instead of working, watching TV or talking to my husband, I started to organize. First was the dining room/school room. Then it was my kitchen table. This morning, the girls and I cleaned their bedroom. This weekend, the basement will feel my wrath. (Note to my husband: If there is anything you want to stay, you may want to bolt it down).

Also on my to do list: organize the hall closet which I’m afraid to open for all the blankets, comforters, towels and sheets stuffed in there; go through the clothes in the attic to see what fall clothes I can find; mail/drop off donations of clothes, toys, CD’s, books, etc.

Oh, and try to do something with these two monstrosities (they look so much worse in person):

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They are the tops of the girls’ dressers, and they are awful. If anyone here has a good storage solution for all the minutiae my girls collect, please speak up. I’d like to sweep it all into a giant garbage bag (save for my original “Dusty” doll!), but I think my girls would smother me in my sleep if I did.

Once this is done, I should give birth to a (fairly) organized house by about October.

Can’t wait to meet the critter.

Wordless Wednesday: Face Painting

What happens when Auntie breaks out the face paint one afternoon:

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And what happens when she agrees to let the kids paint her face:

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(thank goodness she’s a good sport!)

Conditioned for crazy


I recently returned from a week in New Hampshire, sharing a house with good friends we haven’t seen in seven years. We each met each other’s children: my three kids and their one very well behaved, intelligent five year old who I can not imagine ever whispering the word “boobie” and then cackling like an insane person like my own five year old has done, not just at home but at preschool.

We had a great week, despite the clouds and rain that were never far away. The only thing I found curious was that I felt oddly tense that my kids would do something really outrageous that would reveal us to be overly permissive parents whose children not only have bad manners and watch too many cartoons but rarely bathe. So, I made sure the television stayed off–mostly–and didn’t let my son make farting noises on my soft belly, as he loves to do.

I shouldn’t have been worried since our friend’s daughter melded with our kids really well—-leading the chase up and down the stairs, and cheering just as loudly as mine when we were playing “throw the ball from the balcony into the living room and try not to break anything”.

And then one night, my sister and her kids came to visit: my niece and nephew who I not only love to pieces, but am relieved can actually be louder than my children. And, another friend came to visit with her two boys. My “boobie” boy and her six year old son were fast friends, or at least it sure sounded that way.

As I sat on the couch, holding some sort of strawberry drink, surrounded by eight very loud, wound-up children and six adults trying to talk over the din, I realized something:

I was very, very calm.

Good lord, at that moment, I realized that the chaos, the noise and the general thrashing of limbs has become so normal, it fills me with peace.

It feels like home.