What playing "house" on the playground never taught me

I'm pretty sure my mom could pull out paperwork from when I was in elementary school with the cute stick figure women standing next to a big tree with the v-shaped birds flying in the blue sky and a quaint little square house with four windows and a triangle roof and underneath this masterpiece would state : "When I grow up I want to be a mommy". Ok, maybe a few years I wrote teacher, but close enough, right? And all those years of playing "house" where I demanded to be the mommy, well, we can just classify at that as on the job training.

It is crazy to know that I am living my 3rd grade dream. I am a stay at home mom with two rambunctious dogs and a beautiful baby girl I get to play dress up with. What my eight year old Picasso-vision never drew was a woman with wild hair that had an unidentified crunchy spot, a tank top covered in this same strange sticky liquid, a fidgety baby on her hip with dishes piled in the sink, laundry strewn across the house (dirty or clean, who knows) and two dogs play wrestling making noises the earth hasn't heard since the jurassic period.

My poor husband... Did he know what he got himself into? Heck, the poor guy married me but motherhood has brought on a whole new level of chaos no one was prepared for. The newborn stage is comparable to the movie "Dawn of the Dead" where the world has come to a screeching halt, no one seems to be sleeping, and everyone winds up a zombie. Thank God we're past that. So now one would figure that a mother would get a hang of her new life. And that's when your sneaky little bundle of joy throws a wrench into your fairy tale life. Sleeping through the night? Ha, don't hold your breath. Finally enjoying tummy time? Get ready to have your ear drums blown. You no longer feel like a cow? Prepare to say moo, Daisy. I feel like such a failure when my husband comes home from his 10 hour shift at work to dog food in the front entry way, a coffee table piled high with the weeks mail, the sound of a washing machine going (he doesn't know that it would be the first load of the day) and a half eaten sandwich left on the counter. He doesn't dare ask what I do all day because he knows all too well that I will give him a minute by minute playback of every tear shed (both hers and mine), every blow out diaper, failed nap time and cute little giggle. I am so lucky to have such a supportive, understanding man. I am so lucky he gets me.

So what do I do all day? I stare in amazement at this crazy little screeching baby with messy hair and drool that puts my dogs to shame. I can't believe I made her, that she was inside me and that she's mine (ok, Mike's too). Just a little over a year ago we conceived Aubrey and almost a year ago today we found out about her. It's crazy how two pink lines can turn into a something so amazing. I held onto my elementary dream and am so happy I did.
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