Soooo… I wrote this last night at around 10:30pm:
I don’t know what to say except, here I go again sounding negative. Babies cry. And cry and cry. I’m sitting here waiting for Malcolm to stop crying and go the &@#% to sleep, even after I fed him. Again. I don’t want any more kids. Its too damn hard and I miss having any energy left for what I consider “real lifE”. When in fact, I know sitting at a desk job all day since I can’t afford to do what I want is a little too real for me. What a beautiful magical thing it is to have babies. Blah blah blah. I don’t want any more kids. Its too damn hard. I have two healthy kids and its too damn hard. I’m so tired of being tired. I’m so tired of worshiping sleep, as if nothing in the world mattered more than a nap.
I saved it as a draft, not knowing what I’d do with it later. Find a lesson in it? Edit out the rough edges? Nope. Perhaps just an honest moment that can stand on its own with little commentary.