I have serious hate for the term “nesting”. Nesting is a bird comparison. A creature industriously building a nest to house eggs and baby birds. What I am feeling is not an urge to make my home nice for a newborn who doesn’t care if it spends its nights in a cardboard box. My itch is to get this place in order before my life changes. I don’t think nesting really explains this drive.

There isn’t much I am doing to prepare for this baby. When I switched out my winter for summer clothes, I only kept out what will fit me pregnant. Then when I found out we’re expecting a boy, I went through the closet-full (no exaggeration) of baby/kid clothing and bagged up all the girl clothes to give away. I kept things with Sage’s name on it, items that once belonged to me or my mother, and a couple favorites for possible future granddaughters. I’ve already parted with everything size 2 and up to one friend. I am hoping I can find someone expecting a girl this or next year.

It's been two years since we attempted camping on Assateague Island. Jason made a vow never to return after a single night in which he became a giant snack bar to the island's many bugs. I have no problem taking the kids places without him, expecially when Adventure Mom tells me she reserved a spot and I need to get this other spot near her's asap. I don't think either of us were pregnant when we made these plans. Nor did she know exactly when she would be moving (which turned out to be the day before our mini-vacation).

Sage is on a nasal spray and allergy medication. Both a small effort by her peditrician to drain the fluid built up in her ears to avoid tubes being put in. It doesn't seem to be working as yesterday I had to increase and increase the T.V. volume so she could hear. Then I witnessed her listening to one of those annoying electronic books with the small plastic speaker pressed into her ear. You can't yell across a field to Sage. You can't even raise your voice across a room. She won't hear you. Meanwhile she is still substituing letters the same as she did in the fall.

I remember when River first started martial arts. He was four. The gi they gave him was so big we had to roll it at the cuff and ankle. He could not really stand on one leg without falling over. Now he is six. The pants wouldn't fit him at all. The top does not need to be rolled. He lifts his leg and does two snap kicks in a row without putting his foot down. He breaks a board with a side kick. He looks, now and then, to see if I am watching. In baseball he hit the ball with his first swing. He outran bigger kids. At home he picks up a book and reads it outloud.