We're having some rough weeks and truthfully? It's getting old. Fast.
Daughter is challenging as ever and through pure lack of parental consistency, it's our fault. Our entire days' energy revolves around her moods and delights. All conversations lead to her happiness and contentment. All money is spent on extra-curricular activities to keep 'her brightness' busy. It is sucking the life out of the family and keeping tensions high. Getting. OLD.
I'm nearer crazy than ever before and I'm tired of being a poster child for PPD and the benefits of Zoloft. Why is parenting so hard for me? Why don't other people talk about it? Lord knows, I keep the dialog open. All this frustration and self-doubt seems only to reiterate the issues as specific to me. Days like today completely wipe away the joys of parenthood and make me want to run-away from all responsibility.
I cling to my boy with desperation, praying that he will give me some relief. That he will grow mild and mellow and love me so completely that he will never want to see me upset. A lot to ask of a one-year-old, I know. I will never really want for him to be anything other than what he is meant to be, but I hope, HOPE, that he is hard-wired to be easier.
Daughter is challenging as ever and through pure lack of parental consistency, it's our fault. Our entire days' energy revolves around her moods and delights. All conversations lead to her happiness and contentment. All money is spent on extra-curricular activities to keep 'her brightness' busy. It is sucking the life out of the family and keeping tensions high. Getting. OLD.
I'm nearer crazy than ever before and I'm tired of being a poster child for PPD and the benefits of Zoloft. Why is parenting so hard for me? Why don't other people talk about it? Lord knows, I keep the dialog open. All this frustration and self-doubt seems only to reiterate the issues as specific to me. Days like today completely wipe away the joys of parenthood and make me want to run-away from all responsibility.
I cling to my boy with desperation, praying that he will give me some relief. That he will grow mild and mellow and love me so completely that he will never want to see me upset. A lot to ask of a one-year-old, I know. I will never really want for him to be anything other than what he is meant to be, but I hope, HOPE, that he is hard-wired to be easier.
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