My husband got a new job that allowed me to stay home full-time, which we'd been praying for for about three years. Finally! Rest! And then, third trimester tiredness set in, and the terrible twos (which should be called the terrible threes) set in.
Finally, I had a baby. Hooray! Things would get back to normal now. Well, a new normal, anyway. And do you know what happened next? I turned into grumpy mama bear, who walked around in an exhausted stupor, longing for caffeine IVs, but terrified that it would only make my new baby's tummy aches worse.
So, here I am, two months after my last post, following a sporadic few months. Have things finally improved? Only slightly, maybe, but not really. I don't know if I can keep up with writing yet. I don't know if I can drag my head out of the sleep-deprived daze that I live in enough to write a coherent sentence.
Here's what I do know. I am willing to try. I think a creative outlet of some sort might provide me with some reprieve. And, in the midst of near-constant crying, and evolving attitude and stubbornness, I do find smiles of a young baby who thinks his Mama is the greatest person around and entertaining antics of a young girl who doesn't want chicken and noodles for lunch, because they "make her nervous." These are the things I don't want to forget.