Let me paint you a picture:
Pre-pregnancy idea of nesting:
Cute little birds fluttering around collecting twigs and leaves, skillfully piecing them together and holding them together with regurgitated worms. Adorable.
Early-pregnancy idea of nesting:
My cute little self fluttering around in clothes that fit, with a cute little feather duster humming a pretty little tune with no particular melody. Slight smile on my face and the tiniest bead of sweat on my brow. Using my homemade earth-friendly cleaning supplies and giggling at the toilet seat left up and shrugging my shoulders when I find huge (yet somehow adorable) dust bunnies under my bed. Placing adorable little infant clothes on adorable little hangers, smiling serenly as I put them in their own little spot in my shared closet.
Third trimester nesting:
Grunting and attempting in vain to pull my shirt down as I clean the ceiling fan for the third time this week. Muttering not so discreetly as I go to the bathroom to find the toilet seat up, again. Pouring sweat as I wonder how in the world I'm going to fit any more packages of diapers in my tiny closet. Tearing up when I look in the back of the closet to see if somehow its grown to give me more space, instead finding a pile of clothes that once upon a time I looked cute in. Going to the bathroom, only to glance over at the tub and see an unknown stain staring back. Getting my earth friendly homemade cleaning supplies, but after an hour am dreaming of just filling entire tub with bleach. Bursting into tears when I find puppy chewing on cradle leg, then apologize to puppy for dramatic outburst. Bursting into tears when I see dust on headboard. I swear I just cleaned that. Deciding to repaint bedroom. Deciding to repaint entire house. Going to the bathroom with eyes closed so I don't look at sink. Wondering how I could ever bring a real live human baby into this house when there are dusty demonic bunnies under bed (I swear I just cleaned under there). Falling down on bed and tearing up because baby is kicking and it's probably all going to be okay, right? Right. Having to sit up because I can't breathe.
Re: The Progression of Nesting Syndrome
1st tri. Haha none got plenty of time
2nd tri re organize all closets and basement. Clean everything. Make all the cute stuff
3rd tri my brain says clean re - organize closets again. But body says lay on couch and eat all the foods. Cleaning changes every week one week clean clean clean next skew it it's not that bad.
I didn't know that about honest co. I wonder to what extent they were misinterpreting themselves. I read, although they haven't had the lawsuits I don't think, that babyganics isn't all they seem either. Guess its easy to cash in on the going green thing.
Lol. Yeah, I doubt baby's going to care about the color of the room or door or much of the other million things we worry about.
I've cleaned places that had never been cleaned since we moved in 2 years ago!
Not that they were really dirty or anything but they were not "perfectly clean"
This time around, I'm not as crazy about the cleaning since I'm working 40 - 50hrs a week and have two older kids. Something had to give or I would end up in a ball in the corner crying over everything I don't have time to do. I'm also lucky enough to have a SAHD as my bf so I'm passing the buck on some of the major cleaning. I wish men got nesting fever too. He really doesn't understand why I freak out when the floor hasn't been vacuumed, or the bags of goodwill stuff haven't been removed yet.
My nesting so far has mostly taken the form of "Must Pack Everything for the Move (in like a month) Right Freaking Now!" and also "KNIT ALL THE THINGS!" I'm not even knitting baby stuff much anymore. I pulled out a shawl I started over a year ago and abandoned because it was a PITA, but now it MUST be done before baby gets here!
I'm sure once we're in the house nesting will give me a huge urge to unpack all the things, but thankfully the house is quite a bit bigger than our apartment, and there's a lot of built-in shelving, so there is plenty of space for stuff (at least that's what I keep telling myself!)