She bends her head to his. She smells his hair. She has no choices. She imagines suddenly a film in which a sagacious dog travelled hundreds of miles, back along the scent, or the magnetic field, which pulled from what it knew and loved. This hair she could distinguish in a room piled high with other heads. This note she would hear through all others. This person is the centre. It is not what she would have chosen but it is a fact, it is a truth stronger than other truths. It is a love so violent that it is almost its opposite.
Babel Tower, A. S. Byatt
Going back to work in two weeks. Trying to get as much writing done as possible. The two hour nap at 11.30, which was reliable for almost three months, is no longer so. Not sure how to juggle childcare, teaching, writing, applying for jobs, and surviving. Lack of sleep is going to be a problem, but I don't have the energy to sleep train (nor do I think it will work). I need help. My mother is here for a month, cooking, cleaning, watching Leon for 2 hours at a time. Sleep has deteriorated, and he is nursing constantly. This is likely because he's separated from me now. Having my mother here has made me realize just how much help I actually need. Not having friends to rely on for an hour or two of babysitting every once in awhile, not having family, not having childcare, and not having a partner who can help...I don't know how people can be full-time stay at home parents without any breaks, any assistance. And yet, 18 months later, I'm so attached, I don't know how to function without him constantly by my side. But I will have to figure something out because there is little joy in this.