David and Goliath

My husband is obsessed with getting that damn squirrel (goliath) out of the attic. He is apparently getting hungry since I went into the attic to get pre-pregnancy clothes and it appears that he found my stash of marzipan. Clearly a North American squirrel, he cared not for the almond filling and simply ate the chocolate off the outside of it. Further evidence of his presence was the squirrel pee I had the misfortune of stepping in. Then I went in again and found my secret stash of ritter sport had also been broken into.

David, Meanwhile, got a small catch and release cage, but the bugger kept setting it off without being trapped. We now have a giant one (I think it might catch a hippo) with the tempting bait of peanut butter. I hope I don't have any more secret sweets stashes for him to find.

In other news, I'm slowly losing my mind as a stay-at-home mom. I feel terribly guilty about my feelings, but I can't help but feel so trapped. I feel like that character in greek mythology who had his liver eaten out by a bird every day, only for it to grow back again to have the same thing repeated the next day. I change her diaper only to have her pee or poop right onto my hand as I'm wiping her bum and then when I finally get her into a clean one, it is only to know we'll go through the same ordeal in about two hours more. When she sleeps during the day I worry that she won't sleep at night. When she's up during the day, I worry that she isn't ever going to get to sleep. When I'm most tired and ready for bed, she's super jazzed up and won't sleep. When she surprised me and goes down early, I can't sleep! When I try to nap I can't sleep and when I'm dog tired, she wants to eat.

Don't get me wrong...I love her dearly and think she's just the cutest darn thing ever. But it really wears on you. This trapped feeling of living life in 2.5 hour increments and being at the mercy of the most unpredictable thing ever. Tonight Dave went to Lowe's and I cried because after he left I realized that it sounded really fun to get out of the house and go. So I gave Charlotte a bath and made the water too hot I guess and she screamed bloody murder. Then after we were done and she was being dried off, she spit up all over her clean self and I devolved into another set of tears. I'm also pretty sure I'm not eating enough. Which is funny. I can't say I haven't wanted to lose that baby weight (not out of vanity, just want to have clothes that fit). I think I need to eat more, and keep it healthy which is hard.

I now know that parenting is just something you have to go through to understand (kind of like pregnancy). Even the best babies are hard to take care of. The constancy of putting another first is very wearing. A month without a full nights sleep sucks. I have no patience for not knowing what she really needs or wants when she cries.

But...I think she's starting to smile and I love that. She's fun to dress up. She is usually really good and spends most of the day in an agreeable state. I think she's starting to recognize me and she loves me because I feed her.