One Month

I've only been at home by myself with Hadley for three days and I'm already positive that stay-at-home moms are some secret form of God, and/or masochistic gluttons for punishment.

This is hard. I feel bad because sometimes I find myself dreading the next day. Nobody warns you about all the little stuff babies do; the fact that she sounds like a velociraptor trying to hump a very reluctant elephant, for example. Or that when she's home alone with me, I have to resist calling her Damien, but when Daddy gets home we're happy as a cute little clam. Or that I can't put her down at all during the day, or she immediately screams like there's no tomorrow.

How do you do it?! I don't even remember my last shower. I was going to have a 'bedtime routine' every night where she got a bath, nursed, and we read a book before she slipped blissfully into sleep. It was a really pretty fantasy that will NEVER HAPPEN. Routine?! Does that even exist?! What if I'm breaking her by not establishing a routine! She'll grow up and be a stripper or a serial killer, and it'll all go back to her telling Diane Sawyer, "Well, when I was an infant my mother didn't establish any routines. So I killed my English professor and wore his head like a hat."

I might be going a little crazy. Only in the fun way though, not in the scary, serious way. I typically forget how frustrated I am as soon as she looks at me, or coos her approval around my boobie. So I guess it's a fair trade.