The Mess

I really wasn't kidding when I posted that on Twitter, my friends.  When I arrived home yesterday afternoon and took in the state of my living room, I actually thought we had been burglarized.  Once I realized that our flat screen TV as well as our computers wouldn't still be in our home had we actually been robbed, it dawned on me that the mess was simply the work of The Muffin Man.  One small little boy who can't even walk is capable of creating a mess equal to that of three adult burglars on the prowl for easy-to-fence items.  

I don't think that I was in any way, shape, or form, prepared for the filth and disarray that comes with parenting.  I admit to being a bit of a neurotic, OCD-prone control freak, so it hasn't been an easy transition for me to live with a toddler.  Before I gave birth to the Muffin Man I had a neat and tidy living room, an organized desk, and a spotless kitchen.  Behold the state of my kitchen this morning, after 15 minutes at the hands of my son:

I think you can see why I thought we'd been robbed yesterday.  

I would like to tell you that I'll have the mess cleaned up and my home restored to its pristine condition in no time, but the truth is that's probably not going to happen.  The good news is that I've finally found something that adequately treats my OCD; it's called exhaustion.