My Socks Also Match

I wake up in the morning, walk ten feet and run into a door. A door that's not usually closed. I stumble into the bathroom, step into the shower and something squeaks under my foot. There's nothing on the coffee table, the remote to the T.V. is no where to be found and there are smells that scream pureed coming from inside the refrigerator.

My house has been transformed. It's happened before, yes, with the toys and what can only be described as mountains of baby equipment everywhere. But he's mobile this time. He's everywhere, you can't stop him. And so you move everything out of his path. His path of destruction.

It's good for me, I think, mixing up my routine. It's teaching me you can to go bed without everything in it's place. It's teaching me that a shredded magazine is not the worst thing in the world. It's teaching me that whenever you have a child in your house that eats, it is best to also have a dog. She has never been happier, the dog. She's taken right to her post under the high chair like a fish to water. When I try to get her to move, so I can pick up my nephew and shake the crumbs off, the dog looks at me like I'm ripping her from the place she was meant to be. If she could talk, she'd say something like "please, don't make me move. Gazing up at the base of this highchair is the one thing in life I'm actually good at doing!"

It always amazes me how small changes have the power to completely redefine our priorities. I normally manage to leave the house in the morning awake, fed and even accessorized. I turn the music up, make some toaster waffles and head out the door proud that I have remembered to wear earrings and cute shoes. This morning, I left with wet hair, tripped over some sort of rolling, spinning, noise-making contraption and walked into Starbucks looking like I'd forgotten the ever important part of waking up that involves opening one's eyes. And this is not even the morning after a night of babysitting, this is just how good I am at having a change in routine.

The best part, though, is that I think I've realized a little bit of what gets a parent through. Last night, as my sister and nephew were leaving to spend an evening with friends, he reached out for me and said "aaagggguuuiieee." Translation: I don't want to leave my favorite Auntie, give me back to her now or I will scream. Sure, there's no way to prove this but spend two minutes with that baby's head on your shoulder and you'll know there's no way I could be wrong.