I can barely speak when there's a baby crying.
I can't brush my hair or my teeth when there's a baby crying.
I also can't cook when there's a baby crying. Epic salmon-cake fail this evening, but The Man swooped in and saved the day.
And cry she does...turning to Anger-Baby newborn fists-clenched purpley-red faced screaming when things don't go as she expects. And yes, Her Highness has expectations already.
The thing about babies is, they don't give a flying blue fart about any one else at all. We have babies, little human type creatures that are examples of what we would be like were we to act entirely on instinct as utter hedonists 24-7. Then it's our job as parents to civilize them in stages as they grow. First they're tiny neanderthals, grunting and signing, toddling and banging, exploring and demanding. Once the motor skills are mostly mastered then comes the (attempted) mastery of feeeelings...which only works if the adults involved have mastered their own feelings. Because if we don't deal with our feelings, our feelings will deal with us.
And I'm feeling t-i-r-E-d. Biddy Baby is on a shorter sleep/eat schedule the later half of the night, it's not working for me. This too shall pass though, that lovely night will soon come when a 5 to 6 hour sleep will occur---and I'll awake sometime in the middle wondering why she's not awake.
On another note, we've taken steps in selling items to thin out our personal inventory. Rather than sit in some weird denial of reality, letting frightening to-do lists extend to the horizon, we're taking action as we can at the moment.