A Testament to Motherhood

Yesterday, as I sat in my robe, warily listening to the baby monitor, I realized that my living room had become a testament to motherhood. The mess around me spoke volumes. Plastic fish that sing, teething toys that don't work, rattles, a boppy pillow, swing, rocking chair, play mat, burp pads and bibs... booties, hats and a laptop perched on top of American Baby magazine.

The battle between my type A personality and OCD tendencies against what I call 'Mommy Fatigue' raced back and forth in my head as I sat quietly in the chair, alone and still. Alone. And Still.

The next thing I knew, my eyelids where heavy and the baby monitor buzzed, bringing me to full attention. Without another thought toward my living room, I walked down the hall and smiled. "Hello little guy, you hungry?"

Near midnight of the following day, the fish and rattle lay near my laptop and a pile of clean clothes is piled on the couch. There is a blanket- no, two- on the rocker and the green monster that plays "Twinkle, Twinkle" sits eerily near my right shoulder.

Tomorrow, I vow to put away the basket of laundry that has been sitting on my bedroom floor since last week. Perhaps I should do my taxes as well...