I always thought "nesting" was kind of bullshit but now I know it's real--these past few days I've gotten more done than I have in weeks. Between writing, teaching, cooking, putting together furniture, cleaning, and folding itty bitty onesies, I've never felt more productive in work or at home, which is kind of beautiful because most of the time I feel like I'm failing at both.
Everything I've cooked lately has been enough for 10 people. Last weekend we had Rob's cousin and her boyfriend over for brunch after we got home from an early dog training session with Ender, and as I prepared stuff for a little BLT bar I also diced up what ended up being 5 pounds of potatoes for hash browns. I made them in batches and transferred them to the oven to stay warm--I figured whatever was left over could go in the freezer. Our house is mostly clean and the kitchen window is always open and as I made food that I knew I would defrost and eat at some random time in the future with a baby in my arms, I really couldn't help but feel anything but joy.
November has always been my favorite month--there are no birthdays or special occasions other than Thanksgiving but I love that it's the first month when you really can't deny fall anymore. The leaves have changed and the air is chilly and has that crisp scent that might be the smell of leaves or rain or maybe just anticipation, wrapped up in a sweater. I light candles and sweep the floor and fold clean laundry and really just savor the act of slowing down, of one-pot meals in the crock-pot, of long walks with the dog as we crunch through the leaves.
And now this November there will be a birthday, a baby, a whole new chapter of our lives. I'm looking forward to all of it, but happy to spend these next couple weeks assembling furniture in the nursery on a Friday night; wrapped up and cozy under the covers on a Sunday morning, lingering in the warmth of Rob's arms before I tip toe into the kitchen to make two lattes.