Several months ago, I mentioned in a post that I thought I was nesting. Haha, silly six-month ago me -- I was just in a mood to clean that day, and had no IDEA what nesting really was. NOW I'm nesting. For the last few days, I've been following an insane urge to shop every day for MORE BABY STUFF which I then drag home and ORGANIZE. And then, I look at the nursery and have this need to REORGANIZE because, surely, the baby blankets can't go on THAT shelf, they make much more sense to go in this DRAWER and OH MY GOSH what was I thinking putting her lovies and dolls in BASKET on the FLOOR when there is clearly more space on the SHELF??
Each day ends with me, spent and slumped in a chair looking at the room that I am certain I made MORE disorganized, with piles of stuff just waiting for their crazy master (me) to decide where they should go.
Saturday, I sorted the clothes we have for Baby E into ages. I thought it would help me get an idea of where we stand and what we still need. Instead, it caused a HUGE amount of panic, because LORD HELP ME if I have any idea what size this baby will be when she comes out, so how do I know if we need a bunch of newborn onesies, or if we should go with the 0-3 month ones, that seem to make sense but completely dwarf the newborn onesies and we don't want her swallowed alive by her clothes so we should definitely have some newborn onesies, but DO WE HAVE ENOUGH!?! DO WE HAVE TOO MANY?!? The uncertainty is absolutely killing me, I'm a planner and a waste-not, want-not so the idea of taking tags off clothes WE MAY NEVER USE makes me want to cry, or at least wash everything with the tags still on.
And don't get me started there. Ben came home from class on Saturday and looked at all the baby's clothes on the floor and I babbled on for awhile about how we need to wash all her clothes before she gets here, which is why I've emptied her drawers onto the floor. He just waited me out, then smiled gently and said "Okay, great, I'll just go throw these in the washer and we can head out." I nearly lost my mind as I lunged for all the tiny onesies and pulled them out of his hand. I WAS NOT READY FOR THOSE TO GO IN THE WASH. I said they NEEDED to be washed. But not yet. And CERTAINLY not by you, Mr. cutting tags off and being all rationale guy. OH NO SIR.
Does it make sense? Nope. Was it nice he wanted to help me do the baby's laundry. Yep. Am I a COMPLETE LUNATIC who has a need for CONTROL over little, insignificant things? HELL YES.
Today I'm tackling the baby's bathroom. I'm cleaning out all the junk under the sink and organizing her towels, washcloths, soaps and medicines. Don't be surprised if you talk to Ben later and he mentions how he will likely find me tonight. Sitting on the cold, hard tile of the bathroom floor, surrounded by baby products and agonizing over whether the Frog Pod should go on the front, back or side wall of the shower and whether or not four hooded bath towels and six washcloths are enough, or if I need more, and if so, what color should they be?