bliss.

When I go upstairs there is almost always a big fluffy brown bear lying in the middle of my bed...or a blue bear...or a blue dog...or a green frog...and definitely at least one rattle or teether.

What was once my office/guest bedroom/project room is now lined with a crib and a glider and a dresser filled with onesies and tiny socks.

My bathroom is a bounty of soft teal towels sporting dinosaurs and monkies, and it is stuffed to the brim with itsy bitsy washcloths and Johnson&Johnson's Head-to-Toe baby wash.

My living room is a wall to wall collection of baby accessories- a bouncer, swing, changing table, and play gym. And the vast majority of my carpet is covered in fuzzy blankets and toys and books and binkies and the occasional wandering dirty diaper (ahem).

My kitchen is a city of bottle pieces and bibs.

My mudroom is full of strollers, Dreft laundry detergent, and lots and lots of soggy burp cloths and footie pj's.

My car is equipped with a car seat and a mirror that sings and lights up and speaks 8 different languages. It is home to an overstuffed diaper bag and a Frances England CD that we never leave home without.

I love that my life has been ambushed with all things baby. I love that I can't see my carpet past the toys and blankets, that my nightstand has been replaced with a portable crib, that my bathtub houses bath bubbles and a baby seat, that my kitchen sink is never empty, and that my bed is always littered with the aftermath of our last-ditch efforts to soothe a sleepy baby.

Nothing is as it used to be.

And everything is as it should be.

Because every morning I wake up to a pair of bright, sparkly blue eyes and a smile that peeks out from behind a binky.

And then I get to snuggle the little man that comes with those eyes and that sneaky smile...and I am convinced there is nothing in the world so sweet.