My growing nest. Photo: Nina SologubenkoI can be described as reluctantly domesticated, at best (at worst, just call me a failure at all things household-related).
But lately, I've started to feel something I've never experienced before (not even while pregnant with Diana): the nesting instinct.
Last weekend, I started unearthing newborn clothes from storage, along with essential kit like the Moses basket (I can at least pretend baby number two will sleep in her own bed although in my heart I know she'll be joining me, Daddy and Bolshy the bulldog in my bed within hours of arriving home for some co-sleeping bliss), the infant car seat and D's 'educational,' aquatic-themed baby gym which Diana got bored of long before I could teach her what an anemone was.
I've also started preparing D's room for the change; we're ordering a bookcase and moving and/or donating the clothes and toys she's no longer interested in. My wardrobe of three maternity dresses on rotation has expanded to include two nursing vests and one nursing dress, and I even started stockpiling newborn nappies.
To sound slightly more insane, the fact that Christmas is just before baby's due date means that I've been manically organising for the festivities and managed to buy and wrap 9920issuesVIRTUAL-SkimlinksPromo%
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