See me over there? on the far left? I'm there, I promise - i'm the thumb and partial arm that's supporting that six month old monster in sheep's clothing.
I've come to the realization that, since having kids, my identity has slowly but surely been usurped by my children. I've slipped into "Isabelle's Mom", "Baz's Mommy", etc. You'd think that after 88 hours of (collective) labor these little petry dishes of joy would let me be. Instead I've been rewarded with loss of sleep, renewed anxiety, obsession for order if not exact cleanliness, compulsion to discuss pint size bowel movements with great zeal to fellow parents, well...ew...you get the picture.
I know that this phenomena is nothing new and that it will, in point of fact, only get worse as time passes. But occassionally I need some reassurance that I'm still here...somewhere... just dormant for a bit