Being a single mom is fucking hard.
Somehow we have started breastfeeding again.
My daughter is 4.5 years old.
It must look ridiculous.
I don’t care how it looks and, to be honest, it is probably my best skill as a mother, but I am still not 100% confident it is moving us in a forward direction.
It’s hard knowing how big our recent transition was and wanting to honor her “big” feelings around it but so ill-equipped to know how much and when and where and why.
I am not a child psychologist. I am a mother.
And I know her feelings can be so not about the thing I think they are about but then sometimes I think she is just a little drama queen, and I don’t want to take it anymore.
I lose my shit.
Then I apologize.
Then we cry.
Then we breastfeed.
I think the wheels have officially come off this cart.