Tag Archives: nursery

The necessity of nesting

When I first heard about the nesting instinct, I thought it was utterly bogus. Just another lame excuse for cleanliness freaks to validate their obsessive compulsiveness. It’s not surprising since pregnant women have all sorts of incredible terms for strange compulsions.

Wikipedia explains nesting as “an instinct or urge in pregnant animals to prepare a home for the upcoming newborn”. In humans, it is commonly characterized by a strong urge to clean and organize one’s home. Great, now I’m having the same primal instincts as rodents.

Seeing that I have no qualms subscribing to the philosophy of maintaining an organized mess in my home, I thought I’d escape the nesting instinct by sheer rationality.

*Phew, my superior brains are one-up over the common mammals.

I draw the line at living like a slob, but in general, I’m ok with stuff like rolling my laundry up into little balls and stuffing them in the cabinets. As a rule of thumb, as long as the common areas are neat and tidy, hidden mess does not qualify as mess. (In philosophy, it’s the falling tree in the deserted woods theory – if no one is there to witness it, it technically does not exist)

Which is why I was totally caught by surprise when the nesting instinct kicked in. Against my better judgment, I found myself having the need to organize and reorganize every little thing at home. It was pretty mild when I was pregnant with Tru (maybe it’s a boy thing), but with Kirsten, I’m unstoppable. It’s like an itch that I have to scratch.

With 9 weeks to go, I’ve repacked the nursery about 4 times. Each time, I would dig out all her clothes, re-iron them, re-fold them into neat little stacks (in exact dimensions) and place them back in the wardrobe, only to repeat the process all over again. I’ve arranged all her diapers with the precision of a neurosurgeon and practically sterilized the entire room.

The bizarre thing about the nesting instinct is that it just completely disappears the moment the baby is born. Within a week after Tru’s birth, I was back to the ball-rolling thing. Believe me, with a newborn, there was barely enough time to take a full crap, much less organize stuff.

But for now, I can’t help myself. Apparently, my super brains aren’t so superior after all.


I’m a big boy now

It was a momentous weekend for my baby boy, who’s made the transition to becoming a big boy. I feel like one of those cheesy parents who make cliched comments like “Aw, my baby boy’s all grown up”. But cheesiness comes with the territory of parenthood because these cliches first start out as truisms until 2 billion parents start saying the same thing.

When you’re watching your kid everyday, it’s hard to notice that they’re getting bigger, taller and smarter. And bit by bit, they start learning to assert their own independence. But it happens so gradually that it takes moments where you look back and wonder how they managed to grow up so fast.

Tru is officially a big kid now. Over the weekend, we just got him a toddler car seat (the forward facing type instead of the infant ones) and shifted him to his new nursery so he’s all grown up and independent. The husband had to clean out the guest room and do it up all nice and cosy with colorful mats and a whole bunch of toys. I was prepared for some separation anxiety and resistance on his part, but he seems to be loving his new digs.

Mama, on the other hand is struggling to cope with the new sleeping arrangement, so much so that I’ve been sleeping with the baby monitor attached to my ear. I was really dreading the shift but it was a matter of time before we had to make way for for the new baby in July. We figured it would be too traumatic for him to have to cope with the shift and a new baby sister all at the same time, in case he felt like he was kicked out of the room.

But now that I’ve adjusted to having back our room (although it will be short-lived), it totally rocks.

1. No more bathing in the common toilet.

2. No more brushing my teeth in pitch darkness.

3. No more whispering in the bedroom.

4. No more tiptoeing around.

5. Bring back the sexytime!