Nesting. Check.

We're learning that there are varying degrees of "We're Ready". Last week, we were physically ready, with a place to put a baby. And that was a relief. So this week, we've had some time off together over the holiday so there has been quite a bit more Getting Ready.

Meet the official, finished (except for pictures on the wall) nursery:


The thing hanging down from the little pink shelf is a ribbon for barrettes and hair stuff. So cute that it almost hurts to look at it ;).


A very comfy chair, with gliding footrest. Some assembly was required.


That bookshelf was mine when I was growing up. It initially (like in 1980) was pink. Then teal (1986ish, when everything was teal), then a very unpleasant green (I don't know what happened there...) then kind of a neutral beige. It is now pink again. It's the circle of furniture life, and it truly does move us all. We stripped it down to bare wood, and it's now ready for the next generation of color experimentation.

This has been kind of a tough few days. I'm not sleeping very much (yeah yeah practice for when the baby gets here, just hang on, just you wait, blah blah blah) and so it was nice to have some time off where I can just sleep when the mood strikes. She's moving around a lot. I'm kind of high maintenance myself (just ask Rob...). Speck is taking my very carefully-cultivated Princess-and-the-Pea thing to new levels. It's becoming very clear that she has a narrow definition of what is comfortable, and I am at her mercy right now. More than once in the wee small hours of the morning, I've thought wistfully about a day that I'll be able to hand her to someone (like Rob...) and maybe score five minutes of comfort on my stomach. I know I'll miss how amazing it has been to have her all to myself--except for the times when Rob gets brave enough to put his hand on my roiling belly until she shoves it off. But I think We're Ready for the next phase to begin. Remind me that I said this in 6 weeks when I'm running on 8 minutes of sleep and my unwashed hair is permanently fused to the scrunchy holding it out of my eyes.

So that's what the expectant parents are up to. And here is the expectant dog:


Freshly groomed and hoping that someone will come to grab that duck out of her mouth, Gracie also patiently waits for the new arrival.