Today has been one of those days in which I walked by a mirror at approximately 3pm, stopped, walked slowly backwards, and gave myself a good, long, horrified look. No make-up, no shower, no change of clothes since I rolled out of bed at 6am to answer the call of a certain Mr. Fussypants. A runny-nosed coughing toddler and a squirmy whiny baby will do that to you I suppose. Motherhood is not glamorous, that's for certain. But my oh my if it isn't rewarding... in it's own wearing-my-husband's-old-tshirt-and-yoga-pants kinda way.
PS - One of my little "rewards" turns TWO on Friday. I'm working on her birthday letter. And by "working on" I mean that I've thought about it, freaked out for a moment, and then wiped up some spit up or other bodily fluid from one child or the other. (How much longer can I use having a baby as an excuse to not get much of anything done? I've got a while, right? RIGHT?)