It's past noon and I'm not dressed, my teeth aren't brushed, and I haven't showered. The dog hasn't been walked in days. The laundry is piling up, the floors need to be vacuumed, and dinner has been fast food for the past two nights. The sheets on my bed that were just changed last night are now saturated in spit-up, as am I. But my baby knows that when she cries, she will be held. When she needs to be rocked, she will be rocked....and rocked....and rocked.
four hours later: I can't even manage to finish a blog entry! Now I'm actually dressed, but have been spit-up-upon twice, and poor Maryam has spit-up in her ear, from when she was lying down. I finally managed to get her to sleep in her car seat, of all places. I think she likes the cozy-ness of it. I just realized that I forgot to eat lunch, and it's too late now, since Jim will be bringing home dinner in a half hour. No housework has been completed, and the dog has not been walked. But Maryam and I are happy.
I love this life, this crazy "I can't remember to eat" life, because I love my little girl so very much. She has a wonderful daddy who loves her, and two big brothers who are finally starting to interact with her. Believe it or not, this is the life I've always dreamed of having. And now it's here. I stink of spit-up, but I cherish it, and know it will fade away all too quickly.
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