Nest-peration

I have to admit it: one thing no one would ever call me is a big neat freak. What's funny is that I used to do much more cleaning; I always helped around the house growing up, and kept my own places fairly neat...but then I met my husband. Somehow the rhythm we settled into included me doing most of the shopping and cooking and bill management, and he sort of naturally took over the cleaning. And after more than five years of this rhythm, my cleaning impulse has majorly atrophied, to the point that, other than laundry and putting things away, I depend on him for almost all housework. I think I've gotten so out of doing these tasks that now they seem rather monumental, instead of routine, and I get irritable when for some reason or other, I have to take care of them. I'm guessing that's not entirely healthy. But at the same time, I am endlessly grateful to have a husband who contributes so much to our domestic life, consistently, thoroughly, and without complaint. (Thank you, honey, for being so wonderful!)

But yesterday I woke up with energy to burn! And it was sunny and beautiful outside! After a six-mile walk with my mom (which left me embarrassingly, unreasonably sore!) I ran a few errands which included stopping at WalMart for a plastic drawer tower, whereupon returning home I (drum roll please!) cleaned out my den closet and organized my art supplies. I am a craft-rat, constantly gathering supplies for projects I usually don't have enough time for; I own more tubes of glue and glitter, more pads of scrapbook paper, more spools of ribbon than one women who is NOT a proprietor of a Michael's or Joann's should be proud to admit. And the beads, OH the beads! I am incapable of self control when it comes to those sparkly little objects. I literally own pounds upon pounds of them (ask my poor husband...I insisted on dragging them with us when we lived and traveled overseas for two years, and guess who ended up carrying them more often than not!) And until yesterday they were haphazardly scattered in multiple boxes in our catch-all closet. Accomplishing this task with my aching legs and back and monstrous girth was nothing short of ponderous. But I did it! And now I have a neat tower of easily accessible supplies (insert proud chest-puff here!)

Now, I know that many would label this odd behavior nesting, this phenomenon that's supposed to happen in the week or so before the baby arrives. However, I'm pretty sure no mere piddly hormones could encourage me to take on such a task. I'm kinda thinking that what people call nesting is actually just, pure and simple, desperation and boredom. I mean, I have exhausted the resources I have to keep insanity at bay. I've watched every movie I own, read until my head ached (guilty admission: but not, however, my books for school this semester, which I keep vowing to get a head start on), eaten at every restaurant I can think of, been to the theatre multiple times (including to see Juno last night, which I HIGHLY recommend! It was possibly the best movie EVER)...I mean, I am out of ideas here. At a certain point, there's just really nothing left for a girl to do to keep her mind off the stubbornly stuck baby and impending labor and the enormity of being a parent, except turn to the most abhorrent of household tasks (okay, maybe not the MOST abhorrent...I made my husband clean out the refrigerator last week!)

In the meantime, I'm trying every cocktail of make-baby-come remedies that I can. Thursday was sex, spicy Thai food, raspberry leaf tea, and an hour of the elliptical. Friday was the aforementioned 6-mile walk, sex, tea, and "nesting" tasks. (In a deep movie voice-over: What will Crystal do today? Can she find the right combination before INDUCTION this coming Thursday? Her desperation has already driven her to profuse sex and spicy food, but not to castor oil... YET! Stay tuned to find out how far she'll go!)

And let me just add that the news that BOTH Christina Aguilera AND Nicole Ritchie had their babies yesterday did NOT improve my morale.