Logical? Never!

Nesting seems too nice a word for the way I get the last several weeks of pregnancy. Somehow, when I picture a woman who is nearing delivery and is suddenly and inexplicably ambitious, I always see her scrubbing a lemony-smelling, shining-in-the-afternoon-sun wooden floor while muffins bake in the nearby oven. This is not the picture of me these days.

On Monday, I had the official pre-nesting meltdown. You know, the one where the woman realizes she has forgotten that there is actually a baby at the end of the pregnancy and now the dawning of how much she needs wants to get done while she can [kind of] set her own daily schedule is fully setting in. And if that woman looks anything like me during such a time, her behavior involves some crying and crawling under the covers in defeat, followed by large amounts of frustration unleashed on her unsuspecting husband. Finally, the feelings of being overwhelmed and too far in over her head get resolved because her unendingly gracious husband simply says, "Why don't you make a list of everything you'd like to get done in the next several weeks and we'll get it done together?"

Yes, the tears have been dried, the list has been made, priorities are fully agreed upon, and I'm now armed with a plan each morning. It feels good.

But I still don't look like the woman I picture in my mind's eye.

No, I must confess that the woman I've become is one who pads around the house, feet bare and hair undone and garbage bags in hand, rather unmercifully throwing things away. To date, all toys have been sorted through and re-organized and the kids' clothing has begun receiving like treatment. (Trust me, you don't want to be around here if you don't serve a good purpose or at the very least look pretty because you'll probably end up in a dumpster.) I have learned enough that I now wait to show Daniel what I'm throwing away before I actually do the deed, giving him his fair chance at changing my mind. I've even learned enough to agree with him occasionally about what's worth saving... once I've determined that the particular item being discussed won't take up too much space and will be simple to keep track of, that is.

I'm afraid that my version of nesting does not involve washing articles of tiny, baby-sized clothing in special detergent and then giggling as I fold them. The impending arrival of a new life has yet to inspire me to re-arrange furniture or paint the children's bedroom. In fact, I'll be doing very, very well (better than last time, honestly) if I manage to get the infant car seat our of the attic and washed before we're off to the hospital for delivery. But you can bet your bottom dollar that the spice cupboard will be in tip-top shape. And knowing a baby's coming does seem to launch in me a desperate need to get the upstairs walk-in closet emptied cleaned out.

Admittedly, I'm not quite sure of the connection.

But since when are pregnant women logical anyway?