And then we all lived fatter ever after.

Seriously, this having a baby thing just packs the pounds on, even if you didn’t give birth. It’s a combination of sleep-deprivation and B’s new schedule (2 to 11pm) (UGH) that has just made our eating habits all out of whack. B said the other day, “I am such a fat bastard!” and I was like, “Me too!” and then we promptly did nothing about it.

Le sigh.

I’ve been missing blogging lately, feeling a bit isolated with the stay-at-home thing. Can I tell you a non-secret? I suck so hard at being a stay-at-home mom. I guess I used to think the formula was No Job + Baby = SAHM. I was so wrong, and I don’t even quite know how to articulate why it’s difficult for me. It requires quite a bit of structure, which I’ve never been good at. It’s as if when there is a vast sea of time in front of you things seem like they can wait, and very quickly the house is a mess and the laundry is falling out of baskets and there are diapers everywhere and the dogs toenails look like some sort of vampiric horror show. THEN, by that point it all seems too much, and you are too morally depleted from the fact that you haven’t worn anything with a waistband in over six months and your hair is just a mess, and so you just call friends and talk about how hard it is to . . . well . . . do stuff.

First world problems, yo.

The flip side of all the whine is that I love to be with her. I do, I love being home with her and the thought of working makes my stomach turn. I think the solution is that I have to learn how to be a better SAHM. I goggled it the other day, and man was that a joke. I know I can’t be the only one that is so clueless about these things, yet the results page was either, “Make organic play-doh and count to 10 in Mandarin” or “Don’t stay at home it ruins your life”. Sweet options, internet. Can I stay at home and not ruin my life and not be a douche, all at the same time? I guess we will see.

In the meantime, HI! I love your faces. Here is a picture of Team Swan, being all festive and getting our “sleigh ride” on, which was really just a hay ride with “hay” crossed out.