Mums don't cry

But this one did. Alot. So if you want to read something to put a spring in your step then I suggest you quit here, because I am having one of those days.
My crankiness starts to creep in as the evening approaches, when the sky turns a beautiful shade of grapefruit pink and the apartment cools down after four hours of penetrating sunrays beating down on our hardwood floors. At this time of the day, everyday, Isaac shows me what a mystery he is. He is the most angelic, beautiful, peaceful and charming little thing, with eyes that I want to swim about in and legs that I could bite off. But towards the end of the day, he cries so beautifully that I panic at how huge the responsibility is to be needed by something so small and so helpless. In all of my 29 years on this earth, nothing has prepared me for the magnitude of love that I feel for him. I'm drowning in it, in it's sheer immensity and unforgiving force. To the extent that I wish I didn't love him so much. My body doesn't feel designed for it, let alone prepared. I want to divide some of that love up, like a cake. For my mum, my dad, my sisters and brothers.For anyone who will willingly take him in their arms and have a taste of what this love is. Just so I can go out, take a deep breath, and get back to a more predictable, calm and solid place inside my head.A place inside my head where I know what love is and its a much easier love to understand. Just to take the weight of this force that drives me to tears. But I'm at home with him. Very much alone, yet trying to keep my chin up. Take it like a mum. At some point Im supposedly going to see the light of day when, by the miracle of the gods, im going to get used to it. Those magic words get used to it havent quite convinced me of their powers yet. Perhaps because, i dont want to get used to it. Or that I should have to get used to it. I dont want to get used to the loneliness part. Or to the part where I come down with the flu and I can't hold my baby because Im feeling so sick and I don't know who to ask for help or how, so Mr T ends up taking the afternoon off work just so I can sleep. Or the part where I feel guilty for not being a supermum. Or the part where I feel totally and utterly devestated by the notion that I can't get the help I need from family, or the part where I have to resign myself to a life where I cant follow my dreams because of that one fateful day when I played around with the idea of how nice it might be to have a baby and then before you know it, here I am, 2.30pm in the afternoon and wishing Isaac would wake up from his nap because I can't stand how silent the apartment is, and I can't stand not knowing what to do.
Tomorrow my mum and dad are coming from London to see their grandson for the first time. They'll only be staying for four days. Four days After not seeing them in over a year. I should quit complaining and try to enjoy the time that I'll have with them, right? This is what I'm supposed to get used to right?
Take it like a mum.