Boobs and diapers.

Did you know having one of these blog things is kind of a commitment? Kind of a big one, in fact.

I should have realized that before I started one, given my impatience when other people don't update their blogs. But it takes time. And a good idea. Or an interesting experience to talk about. Of the three, I have none. Except maybe time. But time without anything exciting to talk about leads to lame posts like this one. So that's not good enough.

I've actually started...let me count...four blog entries that I haven't finished. Two of them are worth finishing, but one requires scanning embarrassing photos of myself, and the other one requires admitting to my obsession with Twilight. Not sure I'm ready for either of those to go public. So for the time being I will humor you with my pathetic and slightly crazed attempts at preparing for baby Breyer's arrival.

I feel...unorganized. Unprepared. Clueless. Kind of manic. And like I will never be able to get my house clean enough for a baby.

I believe I may have entered the nesting phase of pregnancy.

Two weeks ago Nate and I cleaned out the office — the tiny room our son will soon call home. We packed up all the books, files, paperwork and ridiculous amounts of crafting stuff, and hauled it downstairs. We spent a few hours organizing the basement (I am quite proud of my new laundry system, complete with six matching laundry baskets and signs instructing Nate on what goes where and how to wash it. Why we didn't think of this sooner, I do not know...), but we still have quite a bit of work to do down there. My goal is to turn our unfinished but clean basement into a livable office/crafting/laundry space. This will require help from professionals, including someone who can help redirect our heating ducts so it's not freezing down there, and the Comcast guy, who will have to set up our computer (Nate seems to think he can handle this task himself by snaking the internet cable from the second floor to the basement through our heating vents. Um, no.).

Although the office still houses our desk and computer, it looks like we've made some progress. Nate and I picked out some paint swatches (we're going with light blue) and piled all the baby stuff we've collected in the corner. We also picked up the chair we ordered for the nursery — it's super cute, incredibly comfortable, and completely dwarfs the room. Perfect! Here's hoping the crib and dresser fit...

This past weekend we spent all day Saturday cleaning. And we had a lot to clean, given that I hadn't even put my Christmas decorations away yet (don't worry, they weren't UP...they were piled on my dining room table. Which is much more acceptable at the end of February). Nate was such a trooper — together we got every room straightened up, dusted, and vacuumed. Normally, this would please me greatly. But right now it doesn't seem like enough to dust and vacuum the entire house. I want everything to be SUPER clean. And SUPER organized. I can't bring a baby home to a house with an unorganized junk drawer, or dust on top of the shelves in my closet. My nesting instincts became apparent on Saturday when Nate walked in on me windexing the perfume and cologne bottles in our medicine cabinet. Because that's the first thing the baby will judge me for, I'm sure. Wouldn't want him pointing out water spots on my perfume bottles.

So...I'm clearly turning crazy. Things are coming along, but I don't feel like they are. I feel panicked and unsure about how we'll ever find time to paint, organize, decorate, clean, shop, wash, etc. everything for this child. Nate works every other weekend, which means we have...uh, six weekends to work on this stuff before the baby comes. And that's assuming the baby comes on time, and not a month early or something. (Please God, no.)

My friend Jenny said all you really need to have a baby is boobs and diapers. Well, I've definitely got the boobs covered, and we have one pack of 40 newborn diapers. So as long as the baby is okay sleeping in the new chair and only poops 40 times, we should be good.

At least that's what I'll keep telling myself.