Don't mess with nesting

My daughter tells me that over the past few days she's been busy cleaning the house, sewing curtains, and baking cookies--all the hallmarks of nesting behavior. Baby on the way? Great time to sew some curtains, scrub some grout, and strip some wallpaper! Because let's face it: you'll have no time or energy to do any of that with a newborn in the house.

Frankly, I wouldn't mind having some wallpaper to strip or grout to scrub right now, but I'm stuck sitting in a quiet classroom while my Literary Theory students take an exam. I've been carrying a packed suitcase in the car for days and I'm working several days ahead on everything to make sure I have contingency plans for all my classes, but here I still am. 

A colleague is prepared to step in and teach one of my classes when I leave, but so far he's had no use for the bundle of reading material and discussion questions I gave him. My students have grown accustomed to hearing me start sentences with "If I'm not here on Wednesday" or Friday or Monday or whatever, but here I still am. Another colleague has agreed to meet with my last couple of advisees in case I leave town in a hurry, but here I still am, trying very hard not to think about where I'd rather be right now.

Waiting gives me the fidgets. Frankly, a little mindless physical labor would be really helpful right now: I could take my frustrations out by grout-scrubbing instead of letting that nervous energy bounce around inside my skull all day long and long into the night. The problem is that the fidgets have reached that level of intensity conducive toward doing stupid stuff, like carefully packing up my computer cord so I can use my laptop at home but then leaving the laptop at the office. Give me a major physical task right now and I'm likely to get all befuddled, stripping the curtains, sewing the grout, and baking the wallpaper.

So I'm kind of amazed that my daughter remains so calm, so able to put her nest in order on the verge of childbirth. She has this massive physical task ahead--and it's not accidental that they call it labor--and yet she's sewing curtains and baking cookies. Just thinking about how hard she's working makes me want to go lie down someplace dark and quiet.

Sadly, the fidgets will find me no matter where I hide, and there's only one cure: the arrival of the new grandbaby. Any time now. The nest is ready--let's start some labor! (And I'm not talking about sewing curtains.)