My Christmas post is still on the first page, here in mid-February. I rule.
I’m a fail at so many things right now. Some it’s reasonable for me to be down on myself for (the demise of my marriage, for one), others not so much. (Does A not walk yet because I’ve pulled his hips out of socket by lifting his legs up for diaper changes for 365+ consecutive days?)
As we wait for him to wake from a morning nap, let’s ruminate on all the areas in which I suck, suck, suck.
Le blog, for one. For all you know we never made it out of pediatric urgent care and I’m still at the facility, beating the shit out of the incompetent receptionist. I’ve said nothing about his birthday and even stopped taking his monthly pictures at nine months.
With all the relationship drama, breastfeeding just kind of stopped. A was with Mr. Aggie for the weekend and I couldn’t make myself pump, knowing the girls were failing me anyway. I fear I will regret this for quite a long time.
This post is depressing, and it’s my blog so I’ll quit when I want to. Here’s a happy picture to get the bitter-blogger taste out of your mouth.