Nesting.

I've heard the word plenty of times, especially recently. When asked about the state of our baby's nursery, I've been replying, for the past seven months, "I've done nothing with it!" And this is still the case. We're in the final weeks and I am not, definitely not ready for a baby to live here.

John was a little more on the ball than me, and has constructed the crib. I went through and sorted her clothes, removed all the tags, laundered them, and folded them. But only because I had to. I didn't have a job or anything else to do.

Women keep saying, "Wait until the last month and you'll go into the nesting phase!" And her husband nods to John with wide eyes of warning that would send shivers down most soon-to-be fathers' spines.

Well, Saturday I woke up at 6:15 am, alert and enthusiastic, ready to decorate the baby's room. I did some research online, drew up a plan, figured out what colors we need, and I am ready to go. I even got John to go thrift shopping with me, since I can't do much with any of the clothes, toys and blankets we've received when all we have in the nursery is a bed and I'm a little bit freaking out about not having a rocking chair. Where will I put the rocking chair anyway? Everything seems more complicated with a two-story house.

I just found out that next week I will not be babysitting. So I think it will definitely be painting week. PLUS my Florida baby shower is this weekend and that means I'll have more fun stuff to go through. I'm so excited.