Every time I log in and start to write it all turns into a very boring moan about parenthood and the opacity of motherhood (women, I think, begin life semi-opaque, but motherhood definitely accentuates it) and my own surprise at how easily complicit I become in the whole thing, and while I have nothing against moans, I don’t have much luck getting to the nerve-end of mine.
Just truisms about being female and sleep deprivation.
So here are some pictures instead. Because we’re reading Olivia every day, and Olivia has a little brother and sometimes she scares him by roaring at him with a paper bag on her head made into a monster.
I’m not saying we aren’t enjoying life. I’m just saying I thought this would be easier… and by this I suppose I mean undoing generations of gender patterning before our oldest is out of diapers.
Talk about monsters.