by Sara McGinnis posted in Parenting

When one of my good friends neared the end of her third pregnancy, she got a surprising email. She had been signed up for a meal train, like it or not.
Undoubtedly, the person who set this up had the best of intentions, but they failed to ask the recipient anything. Food preferences, allergies -- if she wanted a meal train at all! Before my friend could even think it through, six do-gooders had already claimed days to drop off dishes.
Baby girl finally made her way into the world, and like clockwork the pasta appeared. First it was lasagna, then ziti. Then came carbonara, classic spaghetti with meatballs, chicken parmigiana, lasagna again, and the dreaded tuna noodle hot dish. Pasta, pasta, everywhere, in there's-no-way-there-won't-be-leftovers quantities.
When I finally got a chance to meet the baby (I picked up burgers for the kids, that's it), my friend finally had someone not on the meal train to vent to. I wondered if she might have been over-exaggerating, but then she opened her fridge. It was filled to the brim with tinfoil-covered dishes, and even worse, baking pans with the owners' names inked on them.
"It's just so much," she whimpered, waving a defeated hand at it all. I did my best not to laugh, but in her hormonal, exhausted state she was a beautiful wreck.
"Go lie down!" I commanded, then jumped into action. I inspected everything for signs of aging and mold, then liberally threw out anything tha...