I sometimes feel really self-conscious about what I write here. Like it’s stupid or nonsensical or irrelevant.
It’s 10 PM and I just got home from work. As usual, I have no idea what to write about. Anyway, when I walked in, Roy was putting a whole chicken in the oven to roast. I sat down and asked him if he’d cut me an apple. So I’m eating an apple and he’s examining the produce that came in our CSA box. While a whole chicken roasts in the oven. At 10 PM. This, to me, is kind of interesting.
(See, I told you I have no idea what to write about.)
You can tell what kind of day I’m having by what kind of diaper Simon’s in. If he’s in a cloth diaper, I’m in a good space and have relatively high energy. If he’s in a disposable, I’m feeling low and/or tired. I used to not understand it when people said it was too hard to use cloth diapers. I get it now. I’ve had to talk myself out of the guilt that comes from knowing that we sometimes contribute to landfills.
I’m doing the best I can.
I’m at the end of my apple. I have nothing more to say right now. Pregnancy absolutely zaps me to the point of not even feeling human anymore.