Back to earth

(above: Nimbin's version of the Partridge Family at the Bangalow market)

I had postnatal depression yesterday.
Just for the day.
Pre-children, when I had a bad day I would take to the bed with a good book and some bad food. (Macaroni cheese was always a favourite).
Now, I have to trudge on, singing 'If you're happy and you know it' in bright tones, even though I'm really not and I really don't.
I think it was a reaction to ten days of carefree joint parenting. Life is so much easier with a 1:1 ratio of babies to mummys. I think the babies thought so too.
'I can't get anything done around here,' I wailed to Lovergirl, who wisely shut me in the study with a cup of tea while she dealt single-handedly with Witching Hour.
All I want to do is post a blog entry. A long one.

It can be summarised thus: Naming ceremony beautiful. Holiday lovely. Supportive friends and family gorgeous. Parenting philosophy attachment, despite whatever you think.