Bobblehead Loves His Striped Pants

This is really pushing the limits of correct human proportions and I would say that, despite the mathematical impossibility of this child's head size, he is one lethally cute little sir.  In the yellow and gray sweater pants I whipped up.  You own those pants, Griffy.

My babies are 1.  As every friend and acquaintance has observed over roughly the last two weeks, I " have survived".  Parts of me have, yes, though parts of me have been temporarily (I hope) subsumed into the Coiled Snake of Bitchery that is Post-partum Depression.  I'm digging out finally though, now that I actually admitted that I have it.  Have had it.  Continue to have it.  Need to get rid of it. 

I won't go into it too much here, but post-partum depression is a sneaky, evil thing to have.  All this time I just thought many bad things about myself.  That I am an inferior mother, wife and person.  That my pain and rage is a selfish matter made of kicking and screaming that my previously over-indulgent and spoiled existence has been interrupted.   But I think suddenly, thankfully, that I get it.   And it's serious and terrible, and there's a new sheriff in town and that shit is on its way out.  NOW. 

I'd love to go on, but this is mostly my creative blog, so I won't because it could get weird.  I kind of wish I had more of a mom blog because I would love to bust that crazy bullshit wide open and say exactly what its like and talk to other moms who have gone through it.  Suffice to say, if anyone reading has been through it, I feel you, girl.  Yuck.

Alas, we have survived, haven't we.  We had a lovely birthday party and I made a quilted "AND", which was fairly speaking, one of the most satisfying micro-projects ever to grace the sewing table.  I don't know why, but it just made me laugh.

 

Our fella and his mom:

Our ladybaby on her special day:

 Happy Birthday adorable little people of mine.  I love you and I promise I am back to you after this brief recent absence of heart.