The other day, Micah came home from work, as he normally does. What was less normal was the behavior he exhibited upon entering the apartment. I was gone, but Abby was here with the boys. As she tells it, Micah came in and started scanning the walls, knocking on them (Simon’s reaction: “Dad there’s nobody in there.”), deliberating over something or other. When she asked what he was doing he replied, “Planning.” He then walked her through the plans as far as he could imagine them, from where he would mount speakers on the wall to how we were going to rearrange our bedroom.
The fact of the matter is this: Micah is nesting. He is expecting his baby in a little over a month. This new addition to our family has been several years in coming, but the time is finally right and now we just have to wait for a few finishing touches before we bring our 27 inch iMac home. While we are waiting, Micah has been prepping the apartment for its arrival. Furniture is being rearranged, storage space is being reconsidered, and we have a big pile of stuff to donate to the Salvation Army. (Don’t we always have a big pile of stuff to donate?) On Saturday we made a trip to IKEA to get some materials to finish some of the projects that have been in the docket since we moved to this apartment nearly 7 months ago.
When I confronted Micah with the stark facts of the case, and my conclusion that he was exhibiting all the symptoms of a nesting mother making room in her home for a new member of the family, he scoffed. “I do this a lot. I’ve been building up to this for a while. I’m just at that point in my normal cycle.” I countered each point, leaving him virtually speechless. His final words: “I could see the humor in the situation a little bit better if it wasn’t me.”
I’m glad it is you, Micah. Because if it were me that was nesting, we’d be in trouble. That, at the very least, I think we can agree on.