Unrealistic expectations

In my pre-baby life I found it difficult to overcome inertia, but post-baby it's practically impossible. When I find a moment of peace all I want to do is fall down on the sofa and stay there until the next feeding/burping/diaper change/temper tantrum. However, for all intents and purposes I'm now a full-time mom and housewife (barring the 6 days I'll be finishing up at work over the next 4 weeks), and I've had to readjust my paradigm - if you'll excuse the buzzword. If I don't manage to get stuff done around the house my husband will have to do it, and that's not fair. He's so amazing in so many ways - he already cooks 90% of the time, doesn't mind doing the dishes (although I'm slowly starting to take on that duty), he's charming, funny, is careful of my feelings (most of the time ;-] ), and not only entertains the baby for me when he gets home from work so I can have some "me time", but he takes the night shift with him so I can get sleep, and so he can bond with his son. Also, he took such wonderful care of me during and after my pregnancy that now I want to take care of him. He's incredibly understanding when I don't get as much done as I would have liked because the baby was being demanding, but I have higher expectations of myself. According to my foolish ideals I should be able to do it all while wearing high heels and a poofy skirt - baby in one hand, wooden spoon in the other. I realize that I've set a ridiculous standard for myself, but I want to be an incredible wife and mother, and I have this unshakable visual of Donna Reed burned into my frontal lobe. Maybe I can convince myself that the modern Donna Reed would totally be rocking the yoga pants/t-shirt/headband combo, and not bothering to vacuum because it startles the baby. Or maybe not...