After a year of moving around quite a bit, Rhys and I are finally moving into a flat of our own once again. We can't wait to set the place up and unpack all of our things. To be honest, it might feel a bit like Christmas since we barely remember what is hidden in all those dusty boxes. Of course the most exciting and anticipated part of moving in will be setting up Baby Lake's room, something I've been dying to do for months.
Now I mentioned in a previous post that I have been feeling very "nesty" lately. Since I was a little girl, I've heard women talking about this whole thing called nesting. Being a fairly organized person, nesting never seemed out of the ordinary to me. Naturally, anyone would want to prepare a place for her baby to live. I just never understood why nesting was made to sound like some phenomenon.... Now I know.
But it goes beyond Baby Lake's dream room—which, in my mind's eye, is a nod to Versailles with damask, whites, light blues and pinks and some sort of swan theme—to the delusional. Let me explain. It all started with a pitcher that looks like this.
The pitcher has a matching set of glasses. Now it’s coming up on summer in the Southern hemisphere and when I saw the pitcher, my nesty brain went buck wild. I saw visions of myself as the perfect little housewife in the cutest little house ever. I was out on the deck pouring my friends pink lemonade and in the other arm, carrying Baby Lake who was looking adorable in a sunsuit. Everyone thought I was the Hostess with the Mostest.
Nesting means I need to stock my house with all the necessary garden party wares BEFORE the baby is born. It means I will own a variety of ruffle-sleeved aprons and whisk through my day cooking and cleaning in high heels. I will be the Energizer Bunny. I will be a Domestic Goddess.
I did eventually snap back to reality. Besides the minor detail that our new flat doesn’t even have a deck, where do I think all this energy will come from, especially once the baby is born? Luckily for Rhys, I am not an impulse shopper, even more so because the baby section is just behind home wares. Still, the pitcher and glasses continue to haunt my thoughts…