My breast pump sounds just like a windshield wiper.
On an unrelated note, sometimes I wonder why it’s easier for me to erase people from my memory than it is for me to talk to them about what’s wrong.
Max met Max at daycare today.
He was pretty impressed with what he saw.
I like the way his teachers look at him, like they love him. It’s a nice reminder that he’s not just my baby but a human being who goes around winning hearts when I’m not around. I try not to think too much about dying, and my primary daily goal is to not die, but I also feel confident that, if a day comes when I don’t achieve that goal, he has a lot of people who love him and he’ll be okay.
I should stop spending so much time at his daycare.
I’m so insecure sometimes. I am constantly concerned about what people are thinking. Even if it’s nothing. Even if there’s no reason to believe that it’s something. I can’t help it.
At the same time, things would be easier if people could just be nice.
Just be nice.