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.




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