Funk.

My mom often tells me that she's quite certain I hated being a baby.

She says I seemed pissed off that I couldn't do much, and with every developmental milestone I reached, I became a little bit happier. That I didn't seem truly content with my life until I learned how to read.

I keep going back to this, over and over again. I'm in a serious funk right now, and it's taken me a while to figure out exactly what's been eating at me. This week, though, I think I finally figured it out. I've lost my independence. Also, I feel like an asshole for feeling this way. I mean, I knew this was coming, right? In the three years it took to get pregnant, and the nine months I spent gestating this tiny, all-consuming person, people told me to 'enjoy it while it lasts.'

Well, that's fine, I guess, except that I don't think autonomy can be fully appreciated until it's gone.

And, with a different baby, or a different set of personalities, things would be different.

Jack won't take a bottle, so even if I can find someone to watch him, I can't be gone more than four (maybe five) hours at a time. That, in and of itself, is kind of suffocating.

Throw in the fact that BoyWonder and I are struggling to adjust to parenthood, and there are serious things brewing in this house. A lot of issues we never bothered to iron out over the last ten years are bubbling up to the surface, and it's causing friction. Well, kind of. I love BoyWonder to pieces but he's not good at realizing when there's a problem, which also makes it really hard to resolve things. Money, for example. We've never shared money. We've never had to. I've always worked. We had a system that worked really well for a really long time, but now that system is broken because I only work three hours a week. So, we need to find a way to compromise... Except that BoyWonder doesn't see a problem. Or, if he does, he sees it as my problem, which means I'll figure something out on my own.

I almost just want to go back to work. Even though I hate my crappy retail job, at least it allowed me some freedom. And money. Sweet baby jeebus, I miss having my own money. And, sadly, I don't even want to spend it on much these days. Example: the only reason I kept my crappy retail job for three hours a week is because I'm bringing in just enough money to buy one cloth diaper a week, plus maybe a soda or two. I'm not even joking.

Of course, the second half of this funk is, I think, just part of having a new baby. I've got cabin fever. I'm bored. Don't get me wrong, Jack is awesome. I love being his mama, and I wouldn't trade it for anything, but I've been stuck at home since October. I think this might get better soon, though. He's decided he might not hate the car, and the weather is finally starting to be decent, which makes it much, much easier to get out of the house. I mean, today I put him in the stroller and pushed him around the back yard while I raked out my row of irises and attempted to clean out the herb bed, and he was perfectly content. And the exercise and sunshine made me feel like a whole new woman, too.

Happy guy. (Also, the cool hazy effect is from a greasy fingerprint over the lens on my phone. Good times.)

I'm not sure where to go from here, though. For now, I'm thinking I'll just pretend I'm happy, while I figure out what I need to do to actually get there. Maybe not the most solid plan, but that's what I've got. It gets easier, right?