Spend several minutes staring in wonder at my child. Tear up at the miracle of life that I have created. Panic when he stirs, and exhale with relief when I realize he just had to fart and is still asleep.
Lie on the floor, stare at the ceiling, and wonder at the marvel of silence.
Explore feelings of guilt for not doing anything worthwhile with this stolen time. Wonder at all the strands of hair on the carpet. Is my hair falling out?
Debate making dinner, cleaning, or otherwise being productive, but decide instead to see what the Kardashians have been up to.
Call my mom to brag that the baby is napping, and to prove that I am not.
Consider exercising. Open the back bedroom closet and stare at my hand weights. Consider cleaning out the back bedroom closet. Close the door, pretend the encounter did not happen, and turn on Ellen.
Wander to the fridge. Sigh deeply upon realizing a pizza or pan of brownies has not magically appeared since I last checked. Return to the floor and lie there staring lovingly at the video monitor.
Go through photos on my phone from three years ago and wonder at how skinny and happy I look. Vow to work out tomorrow while the baby is napping.
Frantically use my phone to check social media, emails and text messages in an attempt to reconnect with reality.
Make a bullet pointed list on my phone about how to be a better, more productive mother tomorrow.