I cried today.
I looked in the mirror and realized my shirt was on inside out and I cried.
The phone rang this morning and my brother and his good friend came by two minutes later and I hadn't showered yet today.
Three hours later and I was clean, but the house was not.
And the doorbell rang and our realtor dropped by with a gift for baby and to see the house.
You know how you might want your realtor to think--Wow, look what they've done with this house!!? As opposed to her thinking--Wow, I'm glad I never had kids.
So I gave her the tour and we stepped over puzzle pieces and tricycles and paint brushes and cat food and books about Elmo. I picked up my son who was half dressed and carried him with me. I kicked the blankets covered in spit up out of the way when we came to the bottom of the basement stairs. I led her through the house, apologizing for the boxes in the corners of some of the rooms and the mess in all of the rooms. And all the while, she stared at the label on the back of my inside out shirt, thrown on quickly after Jordan's last nursing session.
And that's why when you're visiting someone with a three week old child, you should call first.
(Disclaimer--Jon, I'm really glad you stopped by!!!)