real life

This is my real life.

My real living room floor.  My real baby.  My real carpet.

Baby is still in pajamas at lunch time, eating raisins from a box, wearing shoes because she's obsessed with wearing shoes, lounging in the middle of her mess, completely enthralled by Sesame Street.

And thank goodness for Sesame Street, because the scattered debris you see is proof that we have already exhausted any other possibility of entertainment.

Elmo has been loved on, danced with, and since abandoned, face down, in a decorative tray that serves as a holder for whatever baby is collecting that day.  Today, it is a tray for lemons, which, much like Elmo, have been abandoned.

The entire contents of the diaper bag have been emptied, and put back, and emptied again.

The purple water bottle, whose purpose is to aid me in taming wild hair, is left out, not because any hair taming has occurred, but because the baby prefers to use it to quench her never-ending thirst for water.  I can only hope I will still be able to locate it when it is time for hair taming.

And the carpet.  Oh, the carpet.  It is every bit as ugly as the picture makes it appear.

But I love it.

Love IT.

The baby, the mess, the carpet.

Well, not so much the carpet, but it is part of the package, so I'll take it.

Or, in an effort to save my sanity, I'll choose to be as oblivious to it as the baby is.