Nesting.

Theo likes to make nests. Whether made from the throw pillows off of the couch, blankets from our beds, warm laundry fresh from the dryer, toilet paper, or piles of crunchy, scratchy, dead, autumn leaves... Theo's happiest in a nest. He'll sit cross-legged on the ground and draw his material in, close, all around him.

So cozy.

During the final months of both of my pregnancies, my nesting instinct kicked into high gear. If you know me, you're familiar with my affinity for cleanliness... on a typical day, it's borderline O.C.D.

And so, when my pregnancy hormones triggered an uncontrollable urge to clean my typically neat house, I was sprung forth into a disinfecting frenzy... dismantling and sanitizing vents, laundering, steaming, and ironing curtains, emptying and washing out kitchen drawers and cupboards, polishing the cabinets and (I kid you not...) scrubbing their metal hinges with a toothbrush. Can you say, "Immaculate?!"

Luckily, while some women begin to experience this primal instinct during their 5th month of pregnancy, mine never surfaced until week 37 or 38... Anymore of the insanity, and Dave may have sent me away until after our babies were born. (We seriously should have considered this. I bet I could have made a pretty penny cleaning someone else's house!!)

Now that we're expecting through adoption, I've come to realize that there is nothing hormonal about my nesting! With our home study upon us (on Thursday!), I made my way through my house this weekend like a whirling dervish, with a mop in one hand and a dust rag in the other! I scrubbed toilets and sinks, re-organized the kitchen cabinets, cleaned the refridgerator (inside and out!) and, with some help from Dave, washed windows. Now, J.D. told me not to do any of these things. She has very kindly, on a number of occasions, pointed out the dog hair stuck to her sweater or her pants, and told me, "I just need a place to sit and some caffeine, hot or cold!" But, seriously, did she think that was going to stop me?

I'm hoping that, after our home visit, my hyper-tidiness slows back down to my normal tidiness. At least, until, we get a phone call to travel...

Speaking of clean...

Oh, squeaky.