Boxes and varnish

L and I are working our backsides off getting ready for the move - seven days to go. Between the boxes and packing and marking (it's an exam cycle of course), I've tackled two tables to sand and varnish! What an experience.
The cool thing was that the whole time I was sanding (looking manly) and varnishing (looking dirty) I could only think of one thing: This is for L and Wombie. Cool little things like my finger print would land up on the varnish (by accident), or I'd leave a piece un-sanded that only I know of. Little hidden treasures of a project I wanted to do for them.
It's so strange but that is how I find myself thinking lately: what can I hide for them to find at a later stage. Very nostalgic, I know. But hey, this is my blog and I can nostalgia (???) if I so choose (and make up words too it seems).
But back to the tables - I had this constant sense of how these things create memories. Be they my own or memories we will one day make with the as-yet-unborn-one! But they're there and they're ours and no one can take that away!
L is starting to sleep like Wombie's already been born and it's so bizarre. Last night, Wombie and L seemed to be playing their own game at 1am and that was L for the night. Walked through this morning to find her passed out on the couch and all I could think was, "What did I miss and will it happen again?" But new tricks aside, L is growing and Wombie's sitting back and enjoying the ride.
As for the new house (seven days to go) there is still so much to do and Wombie's new room just has to be perfect, or close to it depending on how tired we are. It's bizarre but the thought of accumulating yet more stuff sends cold shivers down my spine and leaves me wondering if the bank is likely to continue handing out cash or will they soon lock me up. Still on the list to do:
1. paint the changing-table;
2. paint the nursery;
3. fetch the cot;
4. find a rocking-chair (of course)
5. buy 1 x pram;
6. buy 1 x camp-cot (like the little buggar's going to want to camp already);
7. buy a shit load of baby stuff (nappies, bottles, dummy, clothes, toys, etc);
8. oh and set up the new house - including unpacking the shit load that Wombie already owns.
And with L at 25 weeks this should be fun, but what the hell we've never done a normal thing before. Let the packing begin.
What I've learnt so far: (1) L finds me irresistible in my torn, dirty old jeans. Cool! (2) Wombie may be Ella-Rhys if he's a she! Could this be the name?