Seriously. I'd clean my floors on hands and knees, pretending I was Cinderella and liking it. When our baby came and sleep became this foreign concept we dared not name lest we jinx ourselves, order and calm went straight out the window.

I won't lie to you--it's been a tough transition. My husband and I have had our meltdowns as the cat and dog duke it out, waking the baby and adding to our growing collection of gray hairs. But this was an article about being happy, right?

So one day you wake up. And you think of the sad, wistful looks you get from old ladies who are totally unashamed to grab your babies toes.

And you realize that they wish they were you.

They miss little toes and games of peekaboo. They miss living life through untainted eyes. They miss all the clutter and the chaos and the noise and the mess, because children lived there.

So whenever I feel stressed out or annoyed or at my wits end, I think of those crazy old ladies with their longing glances and their inappropriate hair ruffling and I think: this is my time. If we don't enjoy these years now, love them for all they're worth, then we might have that sadness someday. We might wish we had thought a little less about the pile of dishes and a little more about a few extra precious minutes of playtime.

So look at it this way: forty years from now, what do you wish you had done differently? Right now, I'm feeling pretty good. My house is matted in dog hair. I'm pretty sure we eat it with every meal. And my baby is happy.

So I'm happy too.