So I was standing in line at Target today when I started comparing myself and my purchases to the woman standing in front of me and her purchases.

She was very fit and wasn't shy about showing off her body- not that I'm a denim miniskirt kinda gal myself, but I must admit that I might be more tempted if I looked like that instead of what I looked like now.

I looked at myself, with my post-baby self in which everything was bigger than what she was showing off, and not necessarily in what you would think of as a good way.

I looked at her purchases- over $350 of pretty things for her house. Some nice art, some new bed linens, candleholders, pillows...

and then I looked at mine.

Formula, contact solution for Kyle, that sexiest of all hosiery items the knee-high, and a toothbrush. The formula is the generic kind because it's cheaper, the contact solution isn't because that's the kind he has to have for his contacts, the knee-highs were the ones on clearance. The toothbrush is just there cause I needed a toothbrush.

And for a minute I am jealous. Jealous of the way she looks, the home decorating things she's getting, the fact that she can afford to spend that much money on ANYTHING when I'm crying about having to buy generic formula.

But then I realize: hey-I'm buying formula because I have the most adorable son in the world who does, on occasion, enjoy a warm bottle. (Not too cool. Not too hot. Just right.) My body looks the way it does in large part because of bringing said adorable son into the world. I don't have to wear a miniskirt and heels, because Kyle and Noah love me even in my jammies.

There is something about love and home and just the everyday domesticity of it all that is just the most wonderful thing in the world. She looked good, got pretty things, and left in a nice car. I looked like I was about to fall over, got what we needed, and left in my nice reliable car.

And went home to a husband that loves me and a baby that I can make laugh sometimes.

I don't think I would trade her places. I'll admit that when Noah wouldn't stop crying tonight and I felt woefully inept and inadequate because I couldn't fix whatever it was that was upsetting him, the idea of some peace and quiet (or just 10 minutes all for myself) was pretty appealing. But then he ruined it all when I picked him up out of his carrier and he snuggled with me. I was a goner.

Pictures of the aforementioned adorable baby coming soon. I just felt talky tonight for some reason. Peace be with you.