Snow, snow, snow, snow, snow

It's been an unusually white winter here. I actually welcome the snow -- it brightens the landscape.

Miss M is thriving. At her 4-month appointment, she weighed 14 lbs, 5 oz, and measured 25" long. The pediatrician said she's around the 75th percentile for both.

I wish I could say I'm thriving, too. But I'm filled with such a strange mix of feelings. When I look at my baby girl, I am overcome with love. People tell me I'm happier since I've had her -- and it might be true. I feel content.

But just as I am overwhelmed with joy, I can be quickly overwhelmed with anger and frustration. Unfortunately, my dear husband takes the brunt of my irritability. I know I blow some things out of proportion. But other times I feel my frustrations are justified.

I don't believe this is postpartum depression. It's not every day I am walking around like a ticking bomb. On good days, I feel "on." But on bad days, I am definitely off. I'm tired. I'm unsociable. I feel like I'm walking numbly through a snowstorm -- head down, in poor visibility, with Miss M insulating me from the white blur of life whipping around us.