Put Your Feet UP!

Tonight, brewing in my head, were some not-so-happy thoughts:
I was thinking about how single parenting sucks, even though I tell everyone it's a piece of cake if you love your kid enough.
I was thinking about how exhausted I was--not mentally or physically, just in spirit.
I was thinking about how I couldn't possibly chase Finley up the stairs one more time today, not without a good stiff drink.
I was thinking about how I took the long way home from school, just to have quiet time to let the sentences roll around in my mind.
I was thinking about the fear I have expressing my needs--my needs for decompression, my needs for approval, my needs for creating.
I was thinking about how I lend Finley out plenty--every other day at least, for a few hours, to go to school, sit at Starbucks, read downstairs, go for a drive--shouldn't it be enough? That seems like more alone time than any mother I know.
I was thinking about how I'm constantly bullied by guilt and pride--guilt for even allowing these concepts to root in my head, because Finley is gorgeous and I am lucky to have her; pride which makes the words "Help me" choke in my throat, because I have to be Uber Mom and do it all myself.
I was thinking about how I want to smack a certain someone on the head, and tell him there's no way I'll let him get away with the bare minimum when it comes to raising his daughter--at least not without letting his daughter know just how little he really cared.
I was thinking how horrible it feels, knowing I'll always make excuses for Finley's dad because I'd never want to tell her the truth about his involvement.
I was thinking about where I was going to get the strength to wake up tomorrow and do this all again...

And then Hannah showed me this, and I thought, Thank God I'm not pregnant anymore.