I’m in a much better mood today. I was feeling very trapped by Lily yesterday which I think is pretty obvious by the entry.

That’s the thing about journals: they are like photographs in that they capture a single moment in time. But life isn’t static, and so moods, thoughts, actions — everything — constantly moves. But a journal entry is a written photograph of a moment — a single emotion or idea captured in words.

(It’s nice to be writing again, even if it’s just journal entries. I haven’t written in a very very long time.)

Toddlers are just so much work. Mothers of grown-up children always tell me, “Oh, before you even blink, they are 25 and moved out of the house. It happens too fast.” And I want to reply, “Not when you have a toddler. When you have a toddler, time stands still.” But I don’t say that. I will probably be saying the same exact thing they are saying when Lily is 25-years-old.

I read a comic strip by Shannon Wheeler where one of the characters said, “Somewhere between expectation and nostalgia, you think I would have been happy.” It seems a very sad statement, but there is a bit of truth to it… just a bit. I don’t want it to be completely true because it is too sad. But sometimes, the moment is difficult and painful.

Anyways, blah blah blah — I’m feeling much better now. I’m off to Taco Cabana with the Munchkin to get some breakfast now.

I’ve been trying to form some identity other than “Lily’s mom.” I feel like I don’t exist anymore; I am merely an extension of Lily. I have been consumed by a toddler. Even as I write this, I am standing up at my desk to type because if I sit down she will crawl over me. Between every other word, I stop to take something she has grasped from my desk and return it but farther up on the desk just beyond her reach.

I can do nothing that I want to do. It’s difficult to even write a journal entry. I only exist for her.

And I am so sad…. so so sad. Each day is a weight; each minute feels like indentured servitude. And I’m angry at being in this situation.

And then there is the inevitable guilt for even thinking these thoughts. A endless loop of guilt, sadness, and anger. Looping and looping and looping, day after day.

I love her so much, and I’m missing these precious moments in her life as my vision and emotions are covered with so much unhappiness.

I’ve got to change something, but what? This isn’t right for either her or I.

I’m so unhappy….