Exhaustion has claimed me. Loved-up exhaustion, but exhaustion no less.

I thought dogs were time wasters. Babies are worse. Seriously. It amazes me how many hours seemingly just get lost each day. Lost staring at her in wonderment. Lost holding her to settle her. Lost just loving her. And I’m okay with that.

The dogs are probably feeling a little less okay with it, but they’re being troopers. And they know when she goes to bed at night that is their time. My time I hear you ask? Nope. Not at the moment. I’m sure at some future point I’ll get some me time again, but not in the foreseeable future. Again, I’m okay with that.

Who has time to write though? As much as I would love to commit my every new mumma thought to paper (or screen as it were), I just don’t seem to have the time. And when I find I do have a spare three minutes, I’d much rather attempt a cup of tea. Or text a friend (no time for real conversations). I’m looking forward to the utter luxury of being able to drink a full cup of hot tea one day. In another 15 years or so.

I wish I could write by osmosis …