Domestic Frenzy

Help me. Somebody stop me. I’m in a domestic frenzy and I don’t know how to get out. My husband had to tell me to stop and rest 3x last night. I couldn’t stop. I’m sending all closets and drawers through a serious purging regimen. I’m cleaning all of those cracks and corners that I don’t even notice the other 364 days of the year. My label maker, Monica, is on overdrive. I’m cooking and baking up a storm, things I’ve never made before like homemade jam, marinara sauce from scratch, and the list goes on. This is not like me, not to this extent anyway. I’m out of control. I can’t stop. People say this is what happens right before you go into labor. Ugh, it’s WAY too early for that, seeing as I’m still 6 weeks out from my due date. When I stop to think about what’s driving this domestic frenzy, there are a number of ‘perhaps’ that cross my mind:
Perhaps it’s because I’m fearing the chaos that’s about to ensue once lil Meuz Deux enters the picture, a season in which grilled cheese sandwiches will be considered gourmet and any energy we do have might be spent wishing like crazy for the cleaning fairies to come.
Perhaps it’s because I fear that with two boys this may be the last time I have a clean house for, uh, the next 2 decades.
Perhaps it’s because we live in a small space, toys encroaching on big people space everywhere. We’re adding another human, so we must get rid of at least that much clutter.
Perhaps it’s my way of dealing with the multitude of things coming my way that I won’t be able to control. There’s a good chance it’s this one.
It’s fascinating, in an out of body experience sort of way, to watch this in myself because I don’t recognize myself. The good news is the house smells like french toast and candles and everything is in its place for the moment. The bad news is that I feel a little bit like a very tired runaway train, albeit a very clean one serving up some tasty food.