The knock on the door sounded 15 minutes earlier than I had expected. I looked around the room, and sighed in resignation before heading to the door.
“Kate… Are you ok?” my dad cautiously asked.
“Sure! I didn’t really sleep last night, but that’s to be expected,” I replied over the shrieks of a boisterous toddler and the chirping music of a newborn swing.
“What’s wrong with your head?!”
“Huh? Oh!” I smiled, raising a hand to the pillow case draped over my head. “I’m the scary ghost!”
That was when I saw my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a mess, and I did in fact have a pillowcase draped over most of it. I was in day-old yoga pants, and covered in baby spit-up. The condition of the living room wasn’t much better; toys were strewn about, and Jasper was still in his pajamas.
Basically, I was unrecognizable, even to my own father. The organized, composed Kate was gone.
My dad stood in the door for a moment, and then bravely stepped into the chaos.
Within 5 minutes, Jasper was changed, and my dad whisked him off for a morning of fun at the playground and Lowe’s. Patrick dutifully began to tidy the toys, and our newest addition was generous enough to let me collapse into a pile on the couch, sleeping for a wonderful 2 hours.
I didn’t even bother to chaange my pants.
Sleep never felt so good.
But hey, we’ll all be sleeping through the night again, soon, right?