There's been so much mental turmoil today that I've worked myself into a tension headache on top of a backache on top of the stiff shoulders from holding everything in all day. And now it's nightnight time, and I've taken nifty relaxant pills that are starting to kick in and make me feel a little better, and I can admit to both myself and the 'Net that yes, I think too much. I'm a mom who thinks too much. My life revolves around this munchkin's timely development, and I've been so worried and had so many fears allayed that I'm taking the fast track to burnout. Like, if she's doing fine and is okay, then I should stop beating myself up over it.

Why do I care? Why do I care what a bunch of strangers think about me? What society who doesn't even know our household has to recommend about bedtimes and bottles and weaning and... all the little stuff that happens. There's a part of me that wants everyone to like me. A people pleaser. There's a part of me that says, don't be stupid, you need to set rules about stuff and stick to them and she's finally in that formative stage where our battles will be fought. These are the battles that count. Like wearing a hat outside. Like wearing socks in the winter.

We're going to be starting a whole new batch of reality rules here in the next couple of weeks. I don't want things to change, but I do. Everybody else is not shy about telling me that they have to if I want the kind of family dynamic that I want.

It's going to be fun. Send prayers, keep us in your thoughts. Give me strength to do this.