Let the nesting begin

I have wondered whether the nesting instinct would kick in with me at all. I've read lots of stories of women who suddenly had to clean the floorboards in their entire home. The midwife who taught my childbirth class said the only times she scrubbed the inside of her kitchen cabinets were the few times she was 9-months pregnant.

But I haven't felt any major urges to clean. Sure, I'm still trying to keep things as clean and tidy as my energy will allow. But I haven't obsessively emptied and scrubbed the pantry or anything.

However, my nesting appears to be manifesting itself in a different way: home improvement projects. I am suddenly trying to frantically finish some projects that I've been meaning to get to for a long time. Years, in some cases.

Take, for example, the cabinets in the vanity area of the master bedroom. I have been meaning to paint those since the week I moved into the condo. Nearly five years ago. And recently I decided that enough is enough, and this must be done. So I dragged Mike to Home Depot on Sunday to collect a million paint samples. See the insanity:

I fully intend to be painting next weekend.

I also went to Target for some odds and ends and came back with two brand new towel racks for the master bathroom/vanity area (I guess that whole area is under fire). Mike, perhaps sensing that I meant business, immediately installed them. I'd been meaning to do this little project for about a year and a half.

Then, as I mentioned in my TV post, I've been redecorating the living room a bit. I decided to buy a collage photo frame to display some family photos. This is now on the wall between the TV and the rocking chair (note the ultrasound picture in the top right frame... awww):

And I'm not done. No, sir. I am still on the hunt for a couple more decorative items for the living room and dining room, I need to paint those cabinets in the master vanity and get some knobs on the doors. And then... there is the wet bar. Yes, that darned wet bar that has been the bane of my existence since I bought this place. I've always hated it. I've hidden it behind a tall bookcase, which satisfied me for a couple of years. But no more. I cannot stand it. It has to go. My son cannot live in a condo that has a completely unnecessary wet bar. I just won't allow it.

Yes, I know that last part was totally irrational. Yes, I know that an infant does not care whether we have a wet bar (or even whether the cabinets in our bedroom have a fresh coat of paint, for that matter). But I care. It must go. I only hope I have enough time to get it taken care of before the little guy arrives.

If I had more time (well, and money), we'd also be getting a new kitchen sink, all kinds of new faucets and new shower knobs and hardware. We'd be painting the entire kitchen, including the cabinets. But I'm trying to remain somewhat reasonable and not drive my poor hubby to the brink of sudden home improvement insanity. No promises, though.