It is 3:20 PM on a Sunday and, save for filing some papers (which is my least favorite chore in the world), I am done with all my chores. The bathrooms are clean, the laundry is done, folded and put away, Houdini's bed is freshly made and his stuff is all spankin' clean and ready to go, the dishes are done, and the bedroom and living room, although not really clean, are neat and presentable. I am showered, Lemel is showered, the leather couch is all waxed and formula/spit up free. If anyone were to visit us right now (actually, my sister and niece will be here any moment), we'd be those new parents that fool other couples into thinking that life is quite manageable after a baby.
Why all these fruitful activities? Because Houdini ate with minimum fuss today--which is how I understand all those other babies are; because Houdini answered nature's call with no coaxing and no additional help from [the dreaded] prune juice; but, mostly, because Houdini has once again seen to grace the swing with his favor. Which means he napped, yes napped for two whole hours, letting us grownups clean the house and make it look less of a war zone without running around like stressed chickens with their head cut off. No, we were just normal chicken, for once.
