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Nesting
by Elizabeth Bussey
Sowdal | |
With
each of my pregnancies I was filled with electric anticipation! I spent the early
months of each pregnancy imagining the bright days ahead. I ticked the days and
weeks off my calender as they passed, waiting, waiting, waiting for what I knew
was coming. Oh sure, I was going to get a sweet new baby out of the deal, and
that was pretty nice. But I was really waiting for something else entirely. I
was waiting for another kind of miracle. I was waiting for the day that I would
wake up in the morning and begin to NEST!
I am not domestic. So, for
me to be overcome with the urge to clean, sort, fold, organize, polish, buff and
scrub was an event. At the first glimmer of the nesting instinct, say closing
a cabinet door on my own volition without being prompted, I was ready to run with
it. The last days before the birth of each of my children was a flurry of activity
and, knowing as I did that it might very well be the next pregnancy before the
linen closet got organized or the baseboards polished again, I made the most of
it each time.
It has been a long time since my last pregnancy. Almost
twelve years. You can probably imagine, if you are that kind of person who slows
down to gawk at car accidents, what the state of my closets and pantry is. I don’t
recommend the attempt for persons with a known heart condition or delicate stomach.
But, you can if you want. I have made attempts over the years to recapture that
glowing domesticity, that burning desire for order, but have found that it is
not something you can fake very effectively.
Friends, something truly
wonderful has happened to me and I want to share it for those of you who are one
or two steps behind me on the life experience ladder. There is hope! You will
nest again! It is only ten short days until my second daughter leaves the house
to begin college. And I can feel the steam building in me! I want her gone, vacated,
packed and shipped out and I want her to take all her stuff with her!
It’s not that I don’t want my beautiful daughter around anymore. Although there
is a downside to having children. For one thing, they do not smell like peaches
and baby powder forever. Next thing you know they get gangly and boney and don’t
fit in your lap anymore. Then they want to pick out their own clothes, do things
with their friends instead of you, have some privacy. They begin to develop opinions.
Before you know what has happened, they are lecturing you on "good fats vs. bad
fats" and telling you that a trip to Walmart does not count as 20 minutes of aerobic
exercise.
If I can’t have my sweet baby girl then, to be brutally honest,
I want her room. I close my eyes at night and I see the seemingly endless possibilities
her large, cedar lined closet offers. I find myself daydreaming about the vacant
bookshelves; shelf after shelf after shelf of pure emptiness beckoning me, enticing
me, inviting me. I have a million plans! And then a million more! It is almost
like winning the lottery, the thought of an entire, pristine, empty room! A room
that I can use anyway I want! I am so excited! I cannot wait to get started!
At one point, the anticipation became almost more than I could bear. I called
the University to ask if there was a possibility she could move into the dorm
early. So that she could begin to get acclimated to the campus and her new environment.
Start to make new friends, find out where her classes were to be held. I told
the lady in the housing office that I thought it would really benefit my poor
little lost lamb and give her some much needed security and confidence. She told
me, and I thought she was a little snippy about it too, that my daughter could
move in mid-August with the rest of the Freshmen. When I began to protest she
said, "Listen lady, this semester won’t be over until May and the fall semester
doesn’t start until August. How acclimated does your daughter need to get? Why
don’t you just come clean with me – you’re going to have a spare room when she
leaves, aren’t you?"
Oh yes! I certainly am! I am, I am, I really am!
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