Remember when I told P I wanted to have another baby?
Well, I've changed my mind.
The Very Good Friend came to Seattle this weekend, and left her five month old baby with us last night so she and her husband could enjoy a nice dinner out together.
Between the baby's crying and B's jealous attempts to distract our attention away from the baby, I was left with a seriously sinking feeling that I could never handle two of 'em full time.
I don't know. Maybe it's different when it's your own baby, and you have all your own stuff and a place to put the baby to sleep (like a crib). I'm just thinking now about the idiocy of me thinking I could handle another one. I only had the baby for a few hours last night, and she is a totally sweet, beautiful baby, but it tired me out -- and not just physically, either. I couldn't give B the attention she wanted, and that bothered me.
This is kind of a weird thing for me to be feeling. I absolutely loved when B was a baby. She seemed so easy to me. But I don't know. Maybe time has distorted my memory or something.
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