Filthy, Frumpy, Fatigued

It's a good thing that no one ever looks at me anymore, because I'm so frumpy that I should have been placed in a cedar closet for the summer. I'm still carrying 15 extra pounds of baby weight — on top of the weight I was carrying when I got pregnant. And let's just say that with work and Riley, my grooming has not been exemplary.
I can't do it all. I can't bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan, and still give my man good lovin' when he makes it home from the office. I'll tell you what I can do: I can keep the baby alive, fed, and entertained. I can work part-time to help put food in the pantry and a roof over our heads. And SOMETIMES I can actually put that food together for a meal! And that's it! I can't do one other thing. The house mess level has reached epic proportions, featuring (on the worst days) dishes piled up in the sink, an office that has yet to be unpacked (for almost a year), a master bedroom full of dirty clothes, and stacks upon stacks of mail on the kitchen table. And there's not much opportunity to clean: Riley is a precious, darling baby, but he only sleeps for an hour or so at a time, two or three times during the day, and even those few hours are hard-won.
I put him down for a nap whenever he shows signs of being tired. I leave the room, hoping that perhaps I can get the dishes done (yes, hopes of napping when he naps have long gone out the window). As I start filling the sink with hot water, the first wail sounds and from there, all hopes of housework or paying bills are gone. I will never, ever see a clean sink without dishes in it again, will I?
Funny thing — as crazed as I am, I always manage to have the baby looking good. Every day he's clean, sparkling, and clothed in some gorgeous little outfit. While I, on the other hand, have been known to wear the same pair of jeans for three days, and am frequently sporting a shirt with spit-up stains on the shoulders. Quite often I'm concentrating so hard on getting the baby ready to go that I'll do things like leave the house without my purse. Or I'll realize halfway down the street that I forgot to brush my teeth. But the baby, he looks great.