Martha Stewart is to blame: not for any outdated trading scandal or perjury charge, but for driving a sizeable portion of New York women — myself included — to the brink of insanity.

I know it isn’t fair to blame poor Martha for my desire that every single one of my closets be immaculately organized — I am, after all, nearly eight months pregnant and feel qualified to write a tome on the nesting phenomenon.

But pregnant or not, I find that most of my friends and acquaintances do care that their sweaters are neatly folded, that their children’s toys are sorted and labeled, that their desserts are homemade, and that their entertaining is flawlessly executed.

This passionate longing to master our homes doesn’t end there. There are photo albums to organize, humidifier filters to change in a timely fashion, and holiday cards to order and mail.

And this doesn’t even begin to capture the domestic responsibilities of those with school-age children. There are hats, gloves, scarves, and winter boots to be purchased. There are after-school and summer activities that need to be organized many months in advance. There are flu shots to administer. There are medicine cabinets that need restocking. There are children’s bedrooms that need constant pruning to avoid clutter.

Stewart single-handedly turned the fanatical, compulsive homemaker — not too long ago an object of pity — into a legitimate object of aspiration. While Stewart makes perfection in the home look breezy and effortless, anyone who has observed uptight Bree on ABC’s “Desperate Housewives” knows that striving for the perfect lemon meringue pie or sparkling clean crystal glasses can take its toll.

I began to blame Stewart last summer when, for some inexplicable reason, I wanted a label maker. It was as if my life, consumed with morning sickness, sibling rivalry, and summer camp complaints, would somehow be elevated if the basket of Legos had a little sticky on the front that said “Legos.” I wanted 5-year-old Kira’s sock drawer to say “Kira’s Socks,” 9-year-old Jacob’s underwear drawer to say, “Jacob’s Underwear,” and the shelf lined with chapter books to have a little “Chapter Books” sticky affixed to it.

If I hadn’t been pregnant, I might have considered experimenting with some newfangled medicine that treats mild obsessive-compulsive disorders. But when I asked around, it turned out that many of my seemingly normal acquaintances already had their children’s toys and closets thoroughly labeled. I found that while people were willing to mock the label maker and other extraordinary organizing techniques, very few didn’t already own one and aspire to a sort of organizational nirvana.

“I love that label maker,” a friend with three children said. “The more organized my apartment is, the happier I am. Being obsessively organized really saves all of us a lot of time, too. No one is ever wondering where their cleats are, or where their gloves are, or where the modeling clay is. Once the organization is put in place, it really stays for a long time. I love that Container Store. In fact, I think that’s where I bought my label maker.”

One friend feels that New Yorkers are excessively organized because they have excessive help. “Believe me, it’s the babysitters and housekeepers that are organizing the toys and sweaters and making little labels,” she said. “And if it’s not the nannies, it’s some professional organizer who’s been brought in for a few weeks to whip the place into shape.”

She’s right. There are hundreds of New Yorkers who specialize in organizing the lives of others. On the Professional Organizers Web Ring (organizerswebring.com), firms offer their services: Declutter! Manage Paper Flow! Books, Videos, Memorabilia, and More! Organize Your Kids for Success!

One mother of three, a doctor, says that she thinks this striving for domestic perfection is unhealthy. “I see plenty of women who are genuinely anxious and depressed because they feel that in order to be successful, they have to achieve a certain level of perfection,” she said. “There is a kind of peer pressure amongst some women in New York to have immaculate homes, and well-behaved children, and perky breasts, and washboard abs.”

While I can’t blame Stewart for the startling increase in the number of size 0s, I do think there is a link between obsessive dieting and working out, and these extraordinary lengths to which women will go to convince others that everything in their lives — toys, sweaters, soufflés, and spouse — is in its perfect place.

“Let’s face it,” the doctor said. “Life is messy. It’s much easier if we’re honest with each other. Putting up the façade takes an enormous amount of energy.”

sarasberman@aol.com