(no subject)
Maybe I will be happier if I just accept that I will never get anything done ever again. Will never have time for my three-year-old again. Will waste the rest of my life trying and failing to get this baby to take a decent nap. Will snap and scold and find everything the three-year-old does unreasonable, inappropriate, and intolerable. I lose. So maybe I just need to accept that. Maybe then I can quit frustrating myself and my family with my anger at myself for not winning.
And no, I still haven't written the damn birth story. I have utterly failed, along with everything else, to document Penny's first six weeks.