Best Nest Quest

One of the primal instincts of motherhood is upon me. I'm nesting! Or at least I'm trying to.

According to the source of all information worth knowing, Wikipedia, nesting can be characterised by a strong urge to clean and organise one's home. Its not just limited to the baby's room, women have been known to unscrew every knob on the kitchen cupboards to disinfect the screws (that's not going to happen at Casa de Glow-Less), organise the pantry in to food groups and start major renovations.

The urge to clean hit me a few weeks ago. A domestic goddess I am not, so Hubby was completely shocked to come home and find the washing done, the floors vacuumed and the kitchen shining so brightly that a welder's mask would have come in handy.

I've mentioned before that I bought a lovely second hand cot - it was a nice varnished brown but I wanted it to be white just because I'm difficult. The recent heat wave means I haven't finished the transformation yet, but when the weather cools down a bit I'll be back out there with my dust mask and sander! There is something a little bit freaky and yet a little bit provocative about a pregnant woman using power tools. And nothing says sexy like protective ear muffs.

My only problem with the whole nesting adventure is that I'm desperate to paint Tricky's room but I can't! Hubby's parents are coming to stay with us for a few days soon and its currently a guest bedroom, so they'd end up suffocating from the painting fumes for sure. A lot of people would probably think the demise of their in-laws would be a blessing, but I actually love mine. Plus when you think that she can sew and he is the world's best DIY-er, they're going to be pretty handy to have around when Tricky starts growing quickly and breaking things. I'm actually wondering if it would be bad manners to ask them to move the furniture from the now defunct guest room for me on the day they leave? “Thanks for staying, now get to work”. Too much?

As I can't do all the big jobs I want to do, I've been busying myself with other slightly pointless tasks like folding baby clothes so neatly they could be on display in Pumpkin Patch and organising them in to sizes. I even made up labels so that at a glance it could be seen that this pile is 0000 and this one is 000 – because surely taking two seconds to look at a tag would be too hard, and one should never assume that just because this pile is to the right of 0000 it is therefore 000 (even though it is – if I could alphabetise it too I would!). I'm not so daft that I don't see how incredibly stupid this is and that makes it quite frustrating. I've turned from a person interested in world events and politics (plus a bit of celebrity gossip if I'm honest) to one obsessed by pieces of material so small they could be mistaken for a hanky.

There is one positive of having to wait to transform Tricky's room in to a relaxing haven where he will sleep soundly and never ever cry (spot the delusional woman). If I finished his room tomorrow then what else would I do between now and bringing him home? In this hormone affected state I might turn in to a screw disinfecting freak! Or clean the skirting boards with a toothbrush! Oh the horror!

Did the nesting urge hit you? Did the staff at Bunnings know your name by the time you were 35 weeks? Leave a comment.

Everyone is entitled to my opinion

Today Hubby and I went on a car cruise to Yanchep as part of the car club he belongs to. No matter what the event, they put on a great social day and it's always pretty family oriented. Today was no different, with a picnic in the picturesque bushland setting. We avoided the kangaroo poo, settled down to eat our picnic with the approximately 50 other people under the shade of the massive trees, enjoying the cool breeze. Sounds good right? Well it was... except for the woman who made me feel like I would be an incompetent mother after 'knowing' me for three seconds.

I don't know this woman's name, she never introduced herself to me, but I know she was eight weeks away from giving birth to her second child and therefore knew everything there was to know about raising children. For ease of reading I'll call her Jane. I know she was only trying to be nice and give advice, but she made me feel like an idiot.

Jane started talking about the costs of a new bub and asked if we had all the bits and pieces ready for the baby's room, so I started telling her about the $1000 challenge and how we've done incredibly well so far (we've scored a cot, bassinette, pram and change table for a grand total of $530). Immediately she chastised me for not looking after Tricky's safety by buying second hand gear, like I'd just gone to the tip and picked up any old rotting and splintered piece of wood and gone “This'll make a great cot!”. She continued earnestly saying she had thought more about the safety of her children and the longevity of the product than money... and spent $800 on a cot. My heart lurched and I started doubting myself – had I done the right thing? What if the cot/pram/basinette falls apart one day when Tricky is in it? World's all time worst mother candidate, right here.

So mid barbecue lunch I'm sitting there, engulfed in my own thoughts and I came up with a conclusion; I'm not so cheap that I would put Tricky at risk to save a buck. The items we have bought so far have all looked pretty good (is there a baby furniture structural engineer I can consult on these things?) and the pram was only 6 months old when the woman I bought it from had to upgrade to a twin stroller because her toddler didn't want to walk if the baby wasn't walking. We have researched all the Australian standards and the new regulations that came in on the 1^st of January to make sure we were buying products that would do their job. Plus just because something is brand new doesn't mean it is safe – one of the Maclaren series of prams was recalled recently because toddlers were getting their fingers amputated when they learnt how to fold the pram themselves. I haven't so much bought second hand, second rate furniture, I've purchased items that have already been “safety tested”. My doubts continued to ease when she revealed her sources on baby safety to be none other than that bastion of journalistic integrity, Today Tonight. If I'm going to take advice from someone it sure isn't going to be Monika “my hair, eyeshadow and lipstick are all the same colour” Kos.