But I did lose every semblance of the crazy appetite I had while pregnant, had no energy to force-feed myself and ended up running on half a slice of toast and a ton of coffee (which I mystically started loving after birth). As an addendum there, I nursed for about two weeks before I realised that I didn’t care how good it was for my bundle of “joy”, my bleeding nipples, far too large breasts and the revulsion I felt at the whole “milk in my boobs” deal wasn’t worth it and in this day and age formula is certainly good enough. Then again I had nightmares about the Alien facehuggers and expected the parasite inside of me to burst out the last 2 months of my pregnancy too, so I guess my sanity -can- be questioned.

On another note, and because I’m commenting anyway: I really like this blog. I was the first in my group of friends to reproduce, and the rose-tinted stories they started delivering roughly a year after I had been through the Year 1 hell (and “knew better”), along with commercial pressure when it comes to parenting perfection and idyllic family life has had me thinking someone should burst some bubbles and dare say it’s not all it’s cracked up to be in that regard. The planet-aligning-moments happens every day, but not in the same brutal measures as insanity-inducing-moments. I’m glad there’s someone who manages to not only go out and say it (you, that is), but also says it in a ‘cold hard facts of life’ mingling with redeeming humour.

This may be a ramble, pretty sure it is, but as it happens my 3-year old decided 4 am is a brilliant time to get non-sleepy, hungry, cuddly and artistic, so now I’m stuck with a girl who trades sleep for me drawing hearts on a post it note so she can colour them.

The irony of stumbling over a blog like this at a moment like that…