Sometimes it takes every ounce of my being to keep it together. To keep from rolling on the ground, fists pounding the floor, kicking and screaming. To not have the most epic of meltdowns that I'm sure every neighbor will look through their blinds toward the house w/ the screeching banshee.
Sometimes, I have to remind myself and say out loud that I really do love my husband, and I don't hate him and his face, and that I've only killed him twice in my head today and not the usual five times. It's not the end of the world that the Diaper Genie is full. Yes, life does go on if another milk bag leaked.
And then I kiss my baby good night and snuggle and all is right in the world and I love my life and never in a million years would I trade it for anything.
It's been a tough few months - there's been a lot of changes, adjustments, and uncontrollable hormones included in the mix - with poor hubby on the receiving end of my neglect and more often times, rage. I'm slowly trying to find myself again, she's in there somewhere, I know it.
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