The challenge of parenthood is starting to get bigger than me…


I wander through my house like an unwashed ghost, pale and fragile from a lack of sleep and sunlight. Haunting stacks of dirty dishes and piles of unfinished laundry, I settle into the sofa, where I have been so often that at midnight, you can almost see the imprint of my backside. My unfinished business clings to me, one hand in my hair and the other wound around the strap of my nursing bra, daring me to put her down.

Now, let me say this: I am not a particularly social person. My husband and I differ in this widely. He is happiest when entertaining groups of people, ideally on his own turf, where he can provide the menu, the drinks, the activities and generally impress everyone with his awesome host-ness.

Me—I will happily wiggle into a chair or under the covers to reread something or the other, or play…

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