Down the hole and into the madness

Sometimes motherhood leaves me so discombobulated. I so often believe that I am missing some sort of key maternal chip or instinct. I mean really, should it be so fucking hard? Or have I just made it that way? Surely it must be easier than this. I used to think it was hard but the sex with a partner aspect always evened things out. Lately I have begun to suspect that in my new phase of celibacy I am missing the mark in this area. I suppose I could wrangle up a willing sex partner but it would just add one more complication to an already hectic life, and I just don’t have it in me to make nice-nice with a new person who I could potentially be naked with at some point.
So here I sit wondering what the hell it is all about and if I am getting it even the slightest bit right. Tonight I couldn’t find the race car and Mater truck (both from the Cars movie) who now make up Devon’s posse of crib companions. All hell broke loose, for about the 87th time today. There was no sleep to be had as Devon lay in his crib bellowing out for me to find them. I pointed out that he had Buzz and Woody and Woody’s hat, not always an easy feat, but it was no good. No fucking good at all. It is one of those weekends where I am already exhausted and it isn’t yet Monday.