Gathering My Twigs

Nesting. It’s another one of those elusive pregnancy terms that I have long heard my “mom friends” describe and discuss. I've heard them talk about when in their pregnancies they started nesting, what they did, how it felt. I would just nod vigorously and act like I understood. Yes, oh yes, absolutely. Nesting, totally. Right on.

But I totally didn’t get it. To be honest, all I could ever picture was a little bird gathering twigs. Clearly, I wasn’t able to relate.

Until It happened. To me.

I should start by saying that I am not an organized person in the slightest. I am the girl who has the house that might look (sometimes, on a good day) like it is halfway tidy and put together. Things appear to be in the right place at the right time – at least on the surface. Then you open up a seemingly innocuous closet and immediately become buried in towels, wedding gifts, and rolls of wrapping paper.

This is why it was even more of a shock to me and my dear husband when I suddenly developed a feverish NEED TO ORGANIZE! It all happened last weekend while Conor was shushing down the slopes of Breckenridge with some of his buds. I stayed behind for obvious reasons (no downhill shushing or hot tubs for me for the next few months, sadly). I was looking forward to a quiet weekend of seeing some girlfriends, watching a few good movies and reading. You know, my usual lazy way of spending time that could be used for more productive activities.

It all happened innocently enough. I went up to the guest room closet to put away some towels. “Putting them away” for me usually consists of throwing them on top of the Leaning Tower of Linens that takes over most of the right side of the closet. I was just about to toss ‘em and leave ‘em when It happened. There I stood in front of my closet of chaos, and I began to think about Baby C. His arrival, all the love I already have for him, not to mention all the STUFF that we are about to collect on his behalf. And I felt the shame begin to course slowly through my veins. How could I call myself a good mother-to-be and not have an organized upstairs guest room closet?

Silly, I know. But such is pregnancy, I suppose. Anyway, three trips to the Container Store (that place is FABULOUS!) and countless hours and Goodwill donation bags later, I collapsed on the carpet in a heap of absolute and complete happiness. Seriously. It was a natural high to organize and clean my closet. What has happened to me?

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to sign off here. I have a master bedroom closet to tackle.



That's a gift wrapping station on the left. You heard me right. Gift wrapping station.