Ahh, peace. If only for a fleeting moment. It's now 7:43 pm. The two elder boys are in their beds and quiet for now. I put them down just after Benjamin puked on my shoulder and passed out. Now I'm eating a bowl of grownup cheesy poofs while I recover from the last 90 minutes of chaos.

Tonight's bedtime chaos was slightly improved from last night, which found all three boys and me in tears at the same time. The highlight tonight was when, in the middle of verrrrry slooooowwwwly reading their bedtime story, Jacob and then Danny broke out into their own version of "Take Me Out To The Ballgame."

Take me out to the ballgame,
Take me out to the Cubs.
I don't know why there's an acrobat
I don't know why I'll never get back for it's
Loop-de-loop for the Cubbies,
If they don't win it's a name
For it's one, two, three strikes you're out at the
Oooold baaaall gaaaame!

It's probably the work hangover I have from my project going live 36 hours ago, but I'm kind of a dishrag. A cranky, cranky, petulant dishrag. Everything is just getting on my last fucking nerve lately. I logged 53 billable hours on my project last week. I put up with way too many politics while my boss was out of town and unable to defend me. I'm. So. Fucking. Tired.

With all the stress from work, I haven't been able to exercise in a couple of weeks, and I'm just fat fat fat. My mother has made several pointed comments about getting the band tightened again, which I didn't want to do while I was nursing. Oh, and more good news! My milk dried up! Yay! I'm incapable of providing nature's most nutritional resource for my baby boy!!!!

*ahem* Sorry, while I recover from that little hormone spike. I've had to give up pumping and I'm really bitter about it. It's not that I love pumping; I hate being a milk cow, truth be told. But I adored providing for my child. I loved thinking that he could tell the difference between formula and Mommy Milk, and that he absolutely preferred mine. I imagined that somehow, my milk could bypass my messy genes and awful immune system to provide incredible strength for my kids.

And giving up nursing? It's like letting go of the last physical vestige of motherhood. I'm no longer physically connected to my child, and that's really tough for me -- surprisingly so. For someone who is so freaking miserable when pregnant, I love giving birth. It's the most unbelievable thing that a person who can pass out at the sign of a needle can pull it together to stay calm through hours of torrential pain, push a baby out even when the epidural has worn off, and have just enough energy left to smile weakly at that squalling little bundle.

And it's all done, now. Unless things turn around financially for us (and/or G-d has a vendetta against the Pill), I'm not going to have another baby. I can barely be in the same room as all three boys without feeling panicky now, so I'm sure having a fourth child is not in the cards. I know that panic will pass, but I just feel so overwhelmed and underappreciated right now. I still have those moments when I look at my kids and my eyes well with tender joy, but I've got about as many when my eyes are tearing from exhaustion and frustration.

I know; poor, poor JT, the spoiled brat. I know I'm a brat, but I can't help it. Sorry for the pity party, folks. Blame it on the hormones -- even 150 milligrams of Zoloft are no match for the mystery of the female body.