Bike Rides, Donuts & Why I Gave Up Nesting With #7

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be the only female in a house full of boys and  87 weeks pregnant and suffering from a severe case of nesting?

No? Well, let me share some highlights...

Do you think testosterone filled humans care if the toaster gets disinfected? 

Would they ever praise you for the hours you've devoted to making sure that the freezer and pantry are stocked, labeled, color coded and itemized on a spreadsheet complete with shiny lamination and stickers? 

Will they really collapse under the weight of disappointment if every stitch of their laundry isn't washed, folded, and neatly organized in their drawers when half the time they prefer a nude existence anyway?

Will they notice the love you've poured into creating the most perfectly sweet and cozy nursery for their new sibling? (Well, I didn't actually do that, because there is no nursery for this baby. I'm the nursery.  He or she will eat, sleep, poop and live on me for the next one hundred eighty days, give or take a few.)

So the answer to all of those questions is a resounding, NO.  In fact, I'm not even sure if the guys around here believe that I'm pregnant (because hello, where's the baby??), which leaves them completely unable to empathize with my insatiable need to suck every dust bunny out of mi casa.  

(Source)

The truth is, once upon a one or two kid time, I was able to manage the whole nesting thing quite well.  Imagine if Martha Stewart and Mr. Clean had a baby and that baby was pregnant and nesting. That was me.

I'll admit that things took a little dip with babies three and four, and maybe a double dip with five and six, but I still managed to leave the house in somewhat adequate condition for those who would be taking over all maternal duties during my hospital stay.

But not this time.  This time, I've surrendered. Carpe Nesting Diem is ovah.

I threw in the nesting towel last week when I found my toddler shut up in the pantry (that I had just polished and organized) sitting on a pile sweet potato chips that he was delightfully grinding into the hardwoods with his chubby little feet.

Sweet Jesus. Help me.

Fortunately, that was also the time when all of your prayer requests started to come rolling in.  So, I abandoned the crumbs and decided to sit on the porch with my cup of self pity.  While I sipped away at the labor-inducing herbals, one-by-one my domestic failures began to fade as I read each and every intention, humbled by the humility it took for so many of you to share your hearts and your life circumstances with me.

That was just the nudge I needed to reassess life, to consider the supreme importance I was placing on things that mattered.....but not that much.  It was then that I officially decided to tear up what remained of my nesting to do list, and write instead a list of creative activities I could enjoy with the boys before the baby arrives.  

Quality time above quality control.

Since that day we have played games, watched movies, planted a garden, golfed, baked, trekked around the zoo and even made use of my page of crafting pins on Pinterest (including this slime recipe which was a huge hit).  

But, by far the best adventure we've experienced together was when I took the youngest five to town for a bike ride on the trails that encompass one of our local parks, which was deservedly followed by a visit to the donut shop conveniently located across from the park.

Ready to roll out!

The older three took off on their own while I cruised the pavement with Joey and Charlie.

Little legs, little wheels, big heart!

For the entire three mile trek, Joseph (who was working so hard under the shade of his comfy stroller there) kept screaming, "MA! Water!" It reminded me of this scene from the movie Wedding Crashers, which is totally hilarious, but TOTALLY wrong. Don't watch it, just don't.)

According to Charlie, we rode eleven miles that day. I assisted him for 9.5 of them, which is why my face is a tomato.  Pushing a stroller and a neon green training wheeler at the same time should be an Olympic event.

DONUTS!!!!!

The boys know how I feel about the evils of sugar, so it was pretty much like Christmas the entire time we were in the donut shop.  So much yumminess!

One doesn't just eat a red velvet cake donut with milk chocolate frosting and white chocolate drizzle.  One must first contemplate the radius of it's wicked gooey goodness. 

Post donut sugar crash on the dust bunny free couch with a good book.
(So, so much better than picking lint balls off of the baby blankets....#37 on the abandoned nesting list.)

Still praying for y'all, but hopefully by the time you read this baby #7 has made his/her grand entrance!