Talking To Myself

I tell myself that I did not sign up for this. I tell myself I did not sign up for diaper changing, bathing someone else, being responsible for feeding and clothing another human being. But then I have to tell myself that it could not be any other way. What choice did I have? Cast the Wee Mouse to the wolves?

So we have these arguments, me and myself. The me that wants my own life, and the part of myself that understands and accepts that this is my life. The life I had is gone. This is what it is. I can rant and rave and howl at the moon - and I do it sometimes - but in the end, I will be content, as best I can, with my new life, with my Wee Mouse.

Here she is colouring.



And here she is being cute as cute can be.



I love her. If this is my fate, I accept it. Even in the moments when I rant, rave, and howl at the moon.