It’s post-National EE Convention, pre-baby, but I swear I’m not just sitting around eating bon-bons. I’ve demolished our master bathroom which has snowballed into a reorganization of every drawer and closet in the upstairs. Our bedroom currently looks like it was dumped upon by the random-innards-of-bathroom-drawers monster. There is stuff everywhere. Baby Girl’s bedroom floor is currently mountained (well, that SHOULD be a verb ‘cuz you know exactly what I mean) with all-things baby that I’m slowly starting to retrieve from boxes tucked away. Zachary thinks that putting little teeny-tiny baby socks on his fingers is pretty much the funniest thing ever. He has LOVED seeing some of the little outfits that he and Matthew wore as newborns. The clothes look SO tiny and yet are ginormous when I lay them out next to the preemie outfits that Zach once sported which ba-lows the mind.

Anyway, my master bathroom is soon to become my personal spa and sanctuary. Our master bathroom has a tiny little shower stall, so tiny in fact that we’ve only used it twice in the eight years that we’ve lived here, opting instead to just use the shower-tub in the main bathroom off the hallway. (The master shower water literally hits Mike in the bellybutton because the shower head is so low and I’m fairly certain that he can hardly turn around in there). So, I’m repainting the whole thing (walls, cupboard, vanity), getting a new light fixture, a shower head extension and new head, installing a shelf above the shower (so there’s actually a place to hold shampoos etc.), and I’m moving all of my bathroom necessities into the drawers and cupboard – I’m marking my territory with shampoos, lotions, perfume and make-up and making the place my own. (Mike will still be ‘allowed’ to shave, take in and out his contacts and brush his teeth in this bathroom, but the real sanctuary-ness of it will be solely mine).

This is called nesting. This is called needing a project to keep my mind off the fact that in 5 ½ weeks (or less-ish or more-ish) we will hopefully be having a baby girl. This is called Jenny-is-internally-freaking-out-and-needs-some-serious-distraction.

Good news from Joy (social worker): because of Baby’s Native American heritage, they had to send letters to 27 local tribes. See, the tribes, COULD get involved if they decided that they didn’t want a Native American baby raised by white folk like us. Thankfully, 26 of the 27 tribes have already responded saying that Baby Girl is unenrollable (because she’s such a small percent Native American and her roots are tricky to trace anyway). This process could have really slowed down the legal steps of moving towards finalizing the adoption, but it looks like it won’t be a problem.

I’ve actually just recently emailed with Birth Mom Mia, and I have to say that – while trying not to be ignorant and TOO clad in rose-colored glasses – I stinkin’ adore this girl. We really could not have been blessed with a more wonderful pregnant lady. And she seems pretty darn pro-us too. I can only imagine how she is feeling as these last weeks of pregnancy wrap up. She only has a few more weeks of being the sole ‘parent’ to this little child and then she will hand her over to practically-strangers, but strangers that she picked for this purpose. I can only imagine. Please keep Mia in your thoughts and prayers as we inch towards our due date.