I'm here, alive and mostly well. My hair is falling out in large post partum clumps and I'm still eating like a crazed fool who has never encountered a cookie before and therefore must eat all of them before they disappear. I'm still having trouble getting up in the morning to workout thanks to Pippa's new trick of 4:30am wakes up that require me and my boobs. But the crazy feels like it's becoming less of an issue and is now just a small cloud of gloom trailing behind me instead of a storm that's flooding me.
I'm finding that things like this really help:
Truman would really like it if everyday he could go knock on the neighbors' doors and get candy.
Pippa would like to wear a fleecy pumpkin outfit everyday because that shit is warm.