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Another post from the drafts. I've been going through all 39 draft posts I've had sitting out there. I used to treat that folder like a journal. And over the last year, there are so many things I wrote down, just to get out of my head, not sure I would ever share them. I think this is something I'd like to share now, now that Penny is coming up on 2 in a few months, and all of my worries back then have been quieted and turned to things like "will she ever stop snacking so much?" and "how is it possible she's already 2?" I wrote this when I was still pregnant, about a month

Two years ago, I wrote this and it's been sitting, unfinished, in my drafts folder - Somewhere in my dreams, I have a place I go to where you're always small. Of course, this morning, you informed me you're a "little fella." You aren't even three yet, so you are still small, but each day I'm watching you change and grow. When I let myself get caught up in the days, I think I may rush you to grow up a little faster. I may push you to hurry up, and come along, and stop that and use your manners. Luckily, you don't always listen. I wrote that January 25, 2015 at 10:07pm. Here I am, two years and one

Tonight, I felt like a failure. Specifically, I felt like I failed at being your mom. There was no huge event that occurred to make me feel this way. It came down to life, really, as I look back on it now. This post began writing itself in my head as I was in the moment, just a few hours ago, feeling like I had once again let you down and I knew I had to get it out, so here we are. Your sister is a little extra needy right now. I don't know why (babies seem to have no rhyme or reason!), but she wanted more time with me tonight and I had to tell you,

I'm jolted awake by it most mornings - a sound, coming over the monitor, that drags me up from my dreams and brings me back to reality. My baby is up, and crying for me. I'll admit it. There are some mornings, especially lately, where I wish I could close my eyes and tune out the world, and drift back to sleep. But biology won't let me, and my instincts push me up and out of bed (not to mention that darn milk reflex). I'm tired. I'm tired like into my bones kind of tired. Sometimes I think, I'm only thirty-one, how can I already feel this way? What are the upcoming years going to be like if I

Tonight, as I stood in my baby girl's room and bounced her in the dark, I wondered about you. I wondered if you were bouncing your baby, too. I wondered if your baby, like my baby, didn't seem to want to drift off to sleep, and if you were running out of ideas as to how to soothe her. I wondered if your back was hurting, like mine was, but you didn't dare stretch because that precious baby was settled into the place only she fits, and any slight movement might bring on the cries again. I wondered how tired you felt tonight. I imagined it had been a long day. Don't the days always seem so long,