I very ashamed, but I can not help thinking that every day that passes is one day closer to my return to life, normal life, I mean.
one where you sleep for more than 1'ora in a row, you eat with two hands free, you take a shower with eyes closed thinking of the cabbage without their groped to break the record dell'insaponamento - rinse under 3 minutes , one where it emerges from the bathroom above without her tits dripping with milk, that life there, in fact, one in which there is hope over the next minute when you open your eyes in the morning.
And I swear that I love my children. Both. More of myself. Really, huh.
But at week 2 are the fruit physical and mental integrity and Leonardo is a holy child augurei to anyone.
But anyhow.
I figured a 3 months for the first step, one in which we do not want to throw on the ground every 20 minutes to try to take a nap.
and 3 others for the second, one in which compounds the food at the table with knife and fork and both hands free.
The third step (one night of sleep) I must still reach the Topolo, so I put it to me as a long-term goal, say within 5 years (gasp).
In the meantime try to enjoy every minute with the kids, even if the result is bizarre: "God how I love this child, these cheeks, ohhhh the smell, that lovely lady, look how small that Epper sleep slut shovel, damn why do not you fall asleep, and I have yet to lay casserole-to-cost iron-and how sweet it is ... ohhh how wonderful being a mom ... miii that anguish that back pain, that sucks! and beautiful ... "
etc etc etc.
What do you say, I'm a shelter?!
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