My brain feels like a shell of itself. I was not at peak mental prowess before RB was born, but whatever state I’m in now feels mushier than that.
The other day a ray of light shone down from the heavens and both kids took an afternoon nap at the same time.
I tried to start a blog, but my brain wasn’t working. I opened up photos: ‘Look how small RB was when she was born!’ Three months ago.
“Both kids asleep! Are you enjoying this?”
“Yes! I’m looking at their photos.”
He stares at me like I’m crazy. I LOVE looking at their photos. They’re so adorable! And their photos don’t talk back or fuss or need anything from me.
I used to look at them after BB went to bed for the night, but now I go to bed at 8pm.
I’m in bed from 8pm to 7am. I don’t feel all that sleep deprived. Maybe the countless wake-ups are destroying brain cells or maybe 37-and-a-half is hitting me hard.
Where to go from here? I don’t know. I promised myself a cookie if I finished this blog.
You’re right, I was going to get a cookie whether I finished it or not.