She may not have a room, but she has a drawer

Ga and Gee were my superheroes today. I was able to get to Target (God, I hate that place) to pick up things for CR's party, and upon returning home, I went through another bin of my own clothes to donate.

As many of you know, I definitely suffer from a condition...one that demands that my floors are always clean, and that clutter is removed from my immediate presence. Tonight, for instance, while cleaning up after dinner, I was putting away Sriracha in the 'fridge when I noticed that the shelves on the door were nasty. Instead of shrugging, shutting the door, and grabbing my evening pint of ice cream, I took out every condiment and wiped down the bins that housed them without skipping a beat. The nesting instinct has magnified this anal state of mind (I know, many of you probably can't imagine how it could be worse than it is already, but believe me, the power of this hormone-driven demand is amazing), so please bear with me if I seem extra focused on cleaning and purging my home of crap.

After bagging up sweaters that I haven't worn in years, I went out to our storage space above the garage and grabbed a plastic box with CR's 0-3 month clothes in it. Many of the items are blue, rendering them unusable by societal standards (I don't think my parents adhered to this creed, as I vividly remember being dressed in Star Wars tee-shirts and brown straight-legged cords with worn-out knees as a child, all handed down to me from my brother J), but I was able to pull out some white or green onesies, hats, and swaddling cloths for baby girl when she arrives.

Now where to put these items? B suggested using one of the drawers underneath CR's bed for her, so I started her wardrobe today with the assorted second-hand goods once worn by her big brother.

It was a bit scary, looking down at the little drawer. We have received a few pink outfits as gifts, so there they lay, next to the size 1 Pampers and the new pink little pacifiers I picked up earlier today. The wrap shirts are so tiny, and I feel like I am going to have to verse myself all over again on how to take care of an infant. I am so used to throwing a shirt over CR''s head, and having him ritualistically put his arms through the sleeves. But a baby? They are useless for the first 3 months (I say that with the most endearing tone, but it's true). They poop, eat, sleep and cry. I am not sure I am ready for this, and all of these thoughts flooded through my mind as I sat on CR's floor earlier today, staring blankly at the only space our little girl will have to really call her own.

B and I joke around, saying that we could have her set-up shop in our closet if we can't find a new house...check back in with me in a couple of months, and see how close we are to making that quip a reality...