I smell like sour milk.
I live in nursing tanks and robes.
I’ve realized that four hours of sleep is a luxury.
I’m seeing hours of the day and night that I haven’t seen in years.
My entire day revolves around feeding, diaper changes and naps.
My brain doesn’t function as well as I’d like it to.
Stitches somewhere in your hooha aren’t nice. I refuse to figure out where they are, exactly. It’s on a need to know basis and I definitely do not need to know.
I love showers more than I’ve ever loved showers before.
My existence is relegated to the bedroom and bathroom…to the point Tim moved the TV from the loft into it. This is monumental because we’ve never had a TV in the bedroom.
I now understand why motherhood is a club that you cannot understand until you have a child of your own.