"ORGANIZED" CHAOS

I threw my very first load of baby clothes and gear into the washing machine this week. And then promptly ruined a set of waterproof sheets by melting them to the dryer. It's true, I am THAT awesome.

I guess you could say I"m "officially" nesting. All I want to do is organize. So much so that I'm seriously tempted to go buy all those new organizational things I put on my registry last week because I can't seem to get past the sensation of needing them NOW. RIGHT NOW. TEN MINUTES AGO. Because god forbid her closet not be organized when she arrives. Don't you know she might JUDGE me if that were to happen? How could I possibly be a good mother if her clothes are in piles on the floor instead of carefully and lovingly folded and sorted by size and likelihood of her actually being made to wear that in tiny, yet handy dandy color coordinated bins?! HOW?!!!!

I also think I've picked out the outfit we're going to bring her home in. Maybe. I don't know. I'm sort of wishy washy on whether I believe that's actually all that important. I've yelled at the dog repeatedly for showing the slightest interest in her stuffed animals because they are not his and would become stuffing in mere moments should he believe otherwise. I have a mounting pile of trash off to the side where her dresser will (hopefully) eventually end up, and a chair I need to ask Adam to take downstairs along with his steamer because this is the BABY'S room now and nothing not baby related should EVER pass through these doors, how dare you even think that!

And then! Oh my god, what about an area rug? Rather than try to squeeze a changing table into a room that's obviously too small, I'm opting to change her on the floor. On the carpet. On the nice, light carpet. Obviously, I thought THAT through. So since babies are known to occasionally have exploding diapers of nasty colored poop, we should totally invest in an area rug. A brown rug. A brown rug like the one we already have that is currently being stored in the garage. The one that is probably coated in a fine layer of dust and bugs and mold spores. The same one I know for a fact the dog has peed on. Repeatedly. In blatant defiance WHILE LOOKING ME IN THE EYE. Maybe we could steam it?

These are honestly the things that go flying through my head. Whatever do you mean "is this what Adam has to live with?!" I'm not sure I like your tone. And you just ask him! Ask him how often I interrupt his video games to make him help me! HARDLY EVER! So shut your face. I mean I'M PREGNANT for shit's sake! Eight miserably months so. God, I want a freaking cookie.