'kay
I got out for an hour, listened to some loud Groove Armada in the car, and spent $170 on groceries. I feel better.
Gah I hate feeling sorry for myself, writing about it, and reading what I patheticly wrote afterwards. I come home to feed Ethan, and I give him the boob, but all he does is look up at me, baring his little gosey neck (my new favourite part of him) and smiling up at me like I'm his whole universe.
And I complain?
Come January, I'm going to be wishing for these days back, when I'm stuck going back to work and leaving him in someone elses care (talk about depression - I could write a book about my feelings about this, but I wont just yet). So I've had a cider and a piece of pizza and I'm feeling a little better.
I'm okay.
Gah I hate feeling sorry for myself, writing about it, and reading what I patheticly wrote afterwards. I come home to feed Ethan, and I give him the boob, but all he does is look up at me, baring his little gosey neck (my new favourite part of him) and smiling up at me like I'm his whole universe.
And I complain?
Come January, I'm going to be wishing for these days back, when I'm stuck going back to work and leaving him in someone elses care (talk about depression - I could write a book about my feelings about this, but I wont just yet). So I've had a cider and a piece of pizza and I'm feeling a little better.
I'm okay.
posted by Sherocious at 8:19 p.m.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home