12.59 p.m. If it wasn't for this challenge, I wouldn't be writing today. It's Friday and as another long week ends, I feel like looking after Hugo and Eloise this week has taken it's toll on me. So in the words of someone I have now forgotten, 'I will write according to program, not mood'.
I feel exhausted. Not so much physically as we've had enough sleep but emotionally. I feel frayed and worn out. I know it will pass but I feel like I have hit a wall. Four months into it with Eloise, a baby who according to my possibly unreliable memory is more demanding than Hugo was, any notion that she could ever need me less, seems at best abstract and in any case, forever away.
Taking care of Hugo at the moment isn't exactly a walk in the park either. He is getting bigger and heavier but still needs to be carried often, whether it's to be placed on the change table or to get back to the car after an outing. In both of these examples, chances are he is fighting it, making it even harder. Often, Eloise is strapped to me as well... sigh...
He is unreasonable and can not express himself well. His language continues to progress at a slow pace, making it a struggle to understand very basic things, let alone more complex emotions.
Somehow having help around makes me feel even more vulnerable than normal. When I am alone, there is no one to notice how I am feeling and so the luxury of feeling it seems almost futile. When other people are around, I might show it more hoping it will be noticed and I will get more help. Unfortunately, the thing about parenting is that you're often in it alone. Other people can help with superficial things (which don't get me wrong is still a great bonus) but for most of it, you're on your own.
So where does creativity fit into days like these? I'm not so sure that it helps much actually. It just seems to add more pressure and the nagging feeling of not getting anything done. It just adds salt to the wound, giving a glimpse of what you could be doing if... On days like these, that's the last thing I need.
I feel exhausted. Not so much physically as we've had enough sleep but emotionally. I feel frayed and worn out. I know it will pass but I feel like I have hit a wall. Four months into it with Eloise, a baby who according to my possibly unreliable memory is more demanding than Hugo was, any notion that she could ever need me less, seems at best abstract and in any case, forever away.
Taking care of Hugo at the moment isn't exactly a walk in the park either. He is getting bigger and heavier but still needs to be carried often, whether it's to be placed on the change table or to get back to the car after an outing. In both of these examples, chances are he is fighting it, making it even harder. Often, Eloise is strapped to me as well... sigh...
He is unreasonable and can not express himself well. His language continues to progress at a slow pace, making it a struggle to understand very basic things, let alone more complex emotions.
Somehow having help around makes me feel even more vulnerable than normal. When I am alone, there is no one to notice how I am feeling and so the luxury of feeling it seems almost futile. When other people are around, I might show it more hoping it will be noticed and I will get more help. Unfortunately, the thing about parenting is that you're often in it alone. Other people can help with superficial things (which don't get me wrong is still a great bonus) but for most of it, you're on your own.
So where does creativity fit into days like these? I'm not so sure that it helps much actually. It just seems to add more pressure and the nagging feeling of not getting anything done. It just adds salt to the wound, giving a glimpse of what you could be doing if... On days like these, that's the last thing I need.
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