Full Moon Rising

There are a few things in life that I absolutely, positively do not regret.

Moving back home is one of them.

This was the view from our living room windows Wednesday evening.

Parenthood

Anyone who knows us personally knows that DH has a rotten work schedule. There are many things that bother me about that schedule. The little amount of time DH is able to spend with the boys, the behaviour issues that arise from Daddy being away so much and the fact that anything that can go wrong with the house, car or weather is going to happen when he is away (case in point: The Purolater dude noticed that the siding on one end of this house is coming off. He noticed THIS morning when he was dropping off packages. Naturally, I dropped DH off at the airport this afternoon). Most of my complaints about DH being away are very me-centric though. There is the lack of time off, the 24 hour days and just the general size of the responsibility to name a few. I have suffered from pretty serious depression since Iain was born so we have tried to set up our day to day activities to ensure that I get a bit of a break - thus the full time daycare (and I have no idea how you do it if you are a stay at home parent full time with no break at all. You are my heroes. Seriously.). However, I still find the mostly-single-parenting gig hard.

Enter a newborn into the picture. One of the things I love most about having a new baby is nursing him. The fact that I can nourish and so effectively GROW an eight pound baby named Finn into the eighteen plus pound baby he is today is such a miracle. And, one of the things I find hardest about having a newborn and nursing full time is the absolute lack of a break.

Maybe my expectations were too high when we started our family. I certainly have an ongoing struggle with how much of a commitment this job really is (and considering the amount of time I ask my parents to help out, it is painfully obvious that my time being spoken for by my children is not a short term contact). Time used by children = 100%. My time = what's leftover.

With all of this in mind, please tell me why am I so upset about the fact that Finlay turned five months old today marking one month to go before he starts solid food which, in turn, means the start of me gaining more freedom?

Parenthood. It'll make you crazy.

I love you, Little Boy. Please stop growing so freaking fast.