Nesting is Truly True

When I read about nesting while pregnant with my now four-year old daughter, I didn't have any idea what they were talking about. Truly I didn't. I literally did not get the concept. Just like I still don't get the signs that read, "Don't curb your dog." I have been living in NYC for 7 and a half years, see that sign on every street, and still can't imagine its meaning.  My comedic hero, George Carlin, would also be confused. And he would be appalled by the sign and by the term, nesting. Why can't our language be more meaningful? Say what we mean!  Instead we use bogus terms to sound important.  Leaving the curbing of the dog thing aside, since I don't have a dog, I don't need to know what it means. But nesting does apply to me right now because I am supposed to be doing it. I now get what it means because I finally read a definition of it that makes sense.  However, choosing the word "nesting", was a really bad idea. Whoever came up with it should be put on trial. Sorry. It left me utterly confused and dejected four years ago because I thought I was supposed to be doing something which I wasn't doing. I guess I wasn't doing it because I didn't know what I was supposed to be doing.  This is torture for a 9-month pregnant lady.  But, as I mentioned, now I know what nesting is. It's organization. And I have been doing it, furiously, I might add.  All I can do and think about in the last 24 hours is getting my apartment clean and organized.  And that is what nesting is to me.  I am on a rampage of getting my place spic and span. I just bought some more cleaning supplies at the $.99 store. I've disinfected the hand-me-down baby toys. I put mattress covers on the beds. I have made the fridge spotless (it wasn't easy to get the dried syrup off the side door). The floors have been scrubbed. Cabinets rubbed down. Radiator pipes fixed and painted.  Furniture re-arranged for ease and simplicity.  Clothes have been sorted, discarded, or stored.  Sheets are clean.  I even moved my wall pictures around.  Yet, I am not nearly finished. I have an inner need to carry on well into the nights before this baby comes next week with more scrubbing, polishing, dusting, sweeping, vacuuming,  re-arranging, tossing out, and stacking. Yes, one can and must do all these things, even in a one-bedroom New York City apartment. As you can see, there is no stopping me.  My hugely pregnant body has taken on all the positions that ferocious cleaning requires.  This will toughen up the baby, who has now likely experienced contortionism.  Not an ounce of this "nesting" business occupied me in my last weeks of pregnancy four years ago. You'd think that even though I didn't have a clue what nesting meant, I still would have had the urge for organization. I didn't then. Now I do. I guess it's true when they say every pregnancy is different.  Let's hope the cleaning urges last me a lifetime!