I'm here. I'm alive. I'm not blogging too much, and that's going to be the trend for a little bit. I'm spinning, and I'm exhausted, and I feel like that's all I ever say. And I'm starting to get a little bit uncomfortable with the fact that that's all I say. I am off work for a week next week. So I get to actually be a mother to my child, rather than that person she sees in the morning and at night. She'll take a break from the people who are actually raising her, her daycare providers, and spend some time with me - the one who writes the big checks to the daycare providers.
Obviously I don't think that people (i.e. me) who send their kids to daycare are not actually raising their kids. But when I see her so little, it just feels that way. Part of it is just the way it has to be.
I sound bitter. And nasty. And horrible. And this is why I'm going to stop for a bit. Because nobody needs to read this. I'll be back when I'm feeling like I've got something better to say. I will get over myself. Swear.