Javi's new word is albatross.
We lost our nanny, who was perfect, to her dream job at an ad agency (I know, blech, but she's young). There's another potential nanny lined up, though, so I haven't completely panicked. But I'm close.
The girls are crying, and if they're not crying they're nursing, and occasionally they are napping, but not at the same time. I'm not getting anything resembling sleep, let alone work done. It was supposed to be getting easier but instead it feels like things are slipping into the harder and harder zone. Last night I walked my fingers one step up, two steps back, one step up, two steps back, on the surface of my leg to show Brian pretty much how I'm feeling these days. It all just makes me want to hide under a mound of blankets.
And he says, think of all the good things you have going in your life, and of course he's right, but that doesn't stop me from wanting to punch him. Well, not really punch him. But you know.
I had to write a letter telling my mother, AGAIN, that she is not welcome to move herself to Texas and be a full-time part of my life, and it sucked writing that letter. Again.
I don't just feel like shit, I feel like the shit on the bottom of your shoe, and I'm tired of feeling this way, tired of my own skin and bones and the sight of myself in the mirror, tired, tired, tired.