six more weeks!

And I sure hope the fabled nesting instinct kicks in soon. At night, I lie awake thinking of all the cleaning that I need to do: washing down the walls in our unventilated bathroom so the baby doesn't develop asthma from the mildew; cleaning out our old wooden cabinets so my in-laws aren't disgusted when they reach in for a coffee mug and get a handful of cobwebs; and, of course, cooking and freezing a month's worth of meals like every single pregnancy book and website advises. 


This last one is pretty unrealistic, as our freezer is currently filled with ten gallon-size bags of green chile. Also because I have never successfully frozen a cooked meal that eventually proved edible. I've frozen a few Tupperwares of soup which I later threw away, sacrificing the containers because I was too lazy and disgusted to thaw them out and clean them. Also because Ben can't eat cheese, which is the main ingredient in any dish worth freezing. And our parents and step-parents, who will be staying with us for the entire month following my due date, are, variously: diabetic, gluten-free, allergic to chicken, vegetarian except for chicken, and sensitive to tomatoes and black pepper. I'm halfway tempted to just stock up on my fave, Stouffer's macaroni and cheese, and let everyone else fend for themselves. 


Anyway, with every day that goes by without my having turned into a manic clean-freak, I have begun questioning my initial definition of how prepared I need to be. Does the house really need to be perfectly clean when the baby is born? From my reading, it seems that most American babies are brought home to houses with recently scoured ovens and sparkling burner pans, vacuumed-out refrigerator coils, blindingly white bathroom grout, fully stocked and organized dressers full of clothes for their first year, and stacks of frozen lasagna. So I've been patiently waiting to tackle this list for months now--while actually looking forward to it--thinking that if I cleaned too soon, everything would just get dirty again, so I might as well wait until a month or two before my due date. 


But now the urge to keep watching Parenthood (my newest Netflix discovery) and read every single reader comment on STFUparents while eating Oreos (because I've now entered the "screw it, I'm taking a multi-vitamin" phase) is too strong to resist! It's overcome my desire for a clean house day after day. So in addition to fearing all of the unspeakable things related to the baby's health, feeling ashamed of myself for not learning (or wanting to learn) any natural childbirth techniques, and worrying that even my second read-throughs and highlighting of ten different baby books won't help me absorb the information, I am also feeling terribly guilty for being an insufficient nester. 


And now that I've mentioned Oreos, I need to go find some chocolate. Why are only the most self-destructive pregnancy cliches manifesting themselves, and none of the good ones?