Wednesday, May 02, 2007


Dear Baby Boy For Whom No Suitable Name Exists,

Please don't come until I get the mulch spread, the bathroom painted, the garage pressure washed, windows cleaned, and more junk hauled out of this house to make room for your junk. I'm sure you will really care about all of these things just as much as I do.

With love,
Your Mom

P.S. Stop kicking my bladder!

Supposedly history dictates that in the weeks and months leading up to giving birth, many mothers are known to "nest" clean, tidy, organize, and prepare. I don't know if its instinctual or just appealing, but the idea of nesting has been something I've longed looked forward. April was one helluva of a month that I was not sad to part ways with this week. I had been chanting "May Day! May Day!" to myself as a private mantra for weeks, reminding myself that a large percentage of my obligations would be completed by or on that day.

But now May is here. My assignments are complete, year long portfolio mailed, student teaching obligations fulfilled, and I suspect I'll even start working less hours in the near future. (This is not to say that I work that many at the present.) And now I turn my attention to the unavoidable -- my blossoming mid-section and her tiny, albeit wiggly, contents. We are so mystified by the idea of having and raising a son that we can not even come up with a suitable title for him. Our dear "Pedro" may simply be "Junior" (not Don nor Patrick) for lack of any other name that can be agreed upon in our household. Even our daughter, who once took joy in recommending names like "yogurt", "blue boy", and "Mr. Dave" now simply replies "Not yet" when you ask her what we should name her brother. I suspect her father has trained her with that response.

While I have given little attention to any sort of real preparations for his arrival prior to now, I do feel eager to start paving the way for his welcome to our home. Wile I don't necessarily know if he will need a freshly painted bathroom, a pressured washed garage, or clean windows, I think I'll feel better if those things are complete before we meet him. And just yesterday, as I passed the children's clothing section at the super mega monster store, it dawned on me that its probably not socially acceptable to dress him in the various pink and lavendar pajamas and outfits that fill countless storage tubs in our basement. And even though he's a boy, can I not still carry him in my red and pink polka dotted sling? Oh dear me, there is work to be done.

But its the sweetest kind of work. The part of me that likes to pack for a trip or plan a party is quite eager for the nesting to begin. Pregnancy Round 1 did not afford me many of these prepartions, and while, without them, we obviously managed just fine, it will feel good to at least have a few things laundered and a fresh coat on the bathroom walls to greet him with. It'll be the least I can do considering we won't even have a name to give him.

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