I've been feeling frustated at my inability to get things done around the house. It's hard to complete a task with a one year old baby girl who loves to spend time with her mama. I find myself spending all of my time with my daughter, playing with her, reading to her, singing with her, taking her outside, going for walks, dancing with her, fixing her hair, teaching her colors, cuddling her, teaching her ABC's, teaching her body parts, (which, by the way, it's no longer "vagina" but "pachina" because, well, PACHINA IS SO CUTE. Double standard because I was all "No cute names for Penis!" But pachina is like the cutest name for a twat EVER and so, pachina it is.)

The only time I feel like I have to clean and get things done is while she's napping. But, I use that time to catch up on my email (which, by the way, I'm VERY BEHIND ON, so forgiveth me if I've not yet responded, ok? ok!), pay my bills, catch up on my reality TV, make phone calls, write, and after I'm done with that, THEN, if she's still sleeping, I'll do laundry, or clean the piss off of the toilet seat.

I feel frustrated. I want the house to be clean and in order, I want to be caught up on the laundry, I want this place (notice, I didn't call it "my home" because IT'S NOT MINE) to be a comfortable, functional environment where we can all feel at peace. Instead, it's an unorganized, chaotic MESS.

But damn, if it doesn't smell WONDERFUL. Because? I am obsessed with Products That Make Your House Smell Good. Glade plug in fans, Oust fans, Wisps , Glade candles, LORD, my cup overfloweth with Air Freshing Products. I have one or two in EVERY ROOM and an entire cabinet filled with new ones, ready to be plugged in or lit up.

I decided that I needed to find someone, whom I trust deeply, to watch G-Unit for half a day, one day a week. Because, IT'S ALL HER FAULT. The Charm. It be interferring with my ability to Get Shit Done. At least, that's what I've decided to tell people, because it feels great to blame A BABY, rather than take responsibility for the fact that I SUCK AT HOUSEKEEPING.

I was so excited about having a little time to myself to get things done around the house... Until the time came to actually take her. I couldn't do it.

The thought of being in the house without my daughter killed me and I wimped out. "I don't NEED time away from her, what I need is to learn how to manage my time in a more efficient way! THE GIRL STAYS!"

I've only left Gabby with my mom 3 times since she's been born. I've left her with my sister once. And I've left her with Tony a couple times when I've gone out to do Fun Things With Friends. I've missed her like CRAZY those few times I've left her and couldn't wait to come back home to see her, kiss her and squeeze her uncontrollably. HOWEVER, that's so much different then her not being here in the house with me. The thought of that makes me want to cry. It would freak me out if she were gone while I was here.

She's my lil' buddy. My little partner in crime (a.k.a my partner in farts). She's my sunshine, my precious, my Special Sauce, my Gabby Goo, my G-unit, my lil brat, my everything.

Maybe the fact that I can't bring myself to drop here off for a few hours is because I know she's the very last baby I'll ever have, and I know how how quickly she'll grow up.

Or maybe it's that I've become completely attached to that girl. And the thought of being in this house kills me.

Of course, there's always the very small possibility that a very small, tiny weeny part of me does not want to get rid of "The Greatest Excuse EVER" as to why I did not clean the house. Again.

But most likely? It's because that little girl owns me.