Someday, I will get a full night's sleep and look well-rested. I will leave the house on time. I will be wearing eyeliner, my legs and underarms will be shaved, and I will remember to put lotion on my knees and elbows. My hair will be styled. I will not be wearing flip-flops, and my clothes will look nice, fit well, and there will be no visible sign or offensive odor of spit-up or baby poo on them. I will not have to run back into the house three times for things I have forgotten before I pull out of the driveway. I will go to a restaurant and eat my meal at a normal pace and maybe even have a second glass of wine. I will take an extra hour to shop, and make one more stop on my way home just because I feel like it. I will crank up the car stereo, and sing at the top of my lungs. When I get home, I will grab a good book, and an icy margarita. I will fall asleep in a lounge chair, and get a little sunburned, but I won't mind.
Until then, please excuse my tardiness, excess body hair, love handles, baggy-butt jeans, hastily gathered ponytail and made-up face, wine glasses left half-full, and eating habits that Emily Post would surely frown upon, as I have a four-month old child, and he is teething. Thank you. (Oh, and I'll just keep dreaming about the extra shopping, lounge chair, and "normal" outing to a restaurant until he is in preschool).