From my pal Tina Kugler, one of the funniest people I know, and creator of my TPB website logo:

Her caption: "i've realized that, really, the only time i'm not clenching my teeth is when i'm yelling. because even if one of the kids is actually being good, that means another one is not...
p.s. if you tilt your head, the drawing on the right is also what i look like when i'm sleeping."

I have been utterly amiss in updating this blog for the past month. Not because nothing is happening...au contraire, mes chers amis, au-fucking-contraire.

I don't even know where to begin, except to say that I have been struggling mightily with motherhood, and work, but mostly with motherhood.

The total, complete and utter loss of Me Time and Personal Space is hard to deal with. I have not read a book since Adrian was born, 18 months ago. This is a new world record for me, the Bookworm.

The constant noise is hard to deal with. Screaming and whining are hard to deal with.

Having my body parts constantly yanked, bonked, pulled, pinched, slapped, tapped and suckled on is a challenge.

Lack of sleep is a big one. Especially when you are awakened by someone headbutting you and screaming in your ear...."MOOOOMMMMMMMMEEEEEEEEE!"

Fighting and arguing and one kid pushing/hitting/pinching another...not fun.

Never being in any public space without being on Red Fucking Alert that a big screamfest might be coming along any moment.

Broken, tattered, chewed, smashed, drawn on with crayon....all possibilities for my cherished personal items.

Yesterday Adrian broke the rear windshield wiper off my car. Just reached up, grabbed it, and yanked it off. Today he smashed a huge mug of sweet tea all over the bathroom, and then, an hour later, smashed a freshly prepared plate of lunch for Julian all over the kitchen floor. He was on my back and reached out and grabbed it with his FOOT, people.

It used to be that people thought I was 5-6 years younger than my actual age. Now? I don't know, but I feel about 90. I look in the mirror and see a haggard, stressed out person looking back at me. Where did all those wrinkles and lines come from?

It's not just stress and lack of sleep, and yelling. It's falling asleep while laying down with the baby, without washing your face or brushing your teeth. It's about being too tired to moisturize. It's about being forgetting to put on sunscreen before leaving the house for the day. It's about not having time to drive up to San Francisco to see my dermatologist, and hoping that I don't have a malignant melanoma festering away on my back in the meantime.

Obviously, it's not just me who feels this way. Tina's in the thick of it too. She's got THREE kids, for god's sake.

And how about THIS woman, who just gave birth to her EIGHTEENTH child?

Here she is with 13 of her 18 kids. They look happy enough. But that poor woman is only FORTY-FOUR YEARS OLD. She looks at least sixty-five.

It will get better, I know. The kids will grow up and get older and won't be so high-need, and I'll have time to read books and put on moisturizer and sleep more than 4 hours at a stretch. The pinching and screaming will stop. The whining will die down.

And don't get me wrong, it's not all bad. My kids are super-cute and *generally* well-behaved, it's just that they are small children, and small children? I'm starting to think that I don't like them all that much, you know?

Julian's starting to come out of it at 4.5yo. Most of the time we get along just fine, although he is maddening us at the moment by refusing to eat anything, and weeping/wailing/whining semi-continuously.

Adrian is 18 months, and he is a cross between a hurricane, the Tasmanian Devil, and a jet plane taking off next to your head. Good thing he's adorable when he's not breaking my plates, or my eardrums.

At this particular moment in time, each day is a long, hard slog of sheer endurance to the bedtime finish line, punctuated by moments of cuteness, comedy, and pure love.

Only four more years until they're both in school. Yes!