Really really normal. I think. Normal is unchartered territory. So far so good. Almost.
My daughter, previously referred to as 'the Angel' shall heretofore be known as 'the Tyrant'. The bedtime battle routine, which was bad enough, now involves more than the battle of wills. Now it includes kicking, biting, hair pulling, and scratching any part of me that she can reach. A phase? I hope so. By the time she's pajama'd and tucked in it is out of her system, she's smiley, cuddly and reaching for butterfly kisses. I on the other hand, feel battered, drained, and in need of that elusive cry. I suppose if I haven't done it yet, I'm not going to.
Other than that, life is peachy. Starting to take babysteps out of my comfort zone in healthy ways. Not in that self destructive cover-my-eyes and step-off-the-cliff-not-caring-where-I-land way. But the plan is to keep my life simple and uncomplicated. It's nice not to be keeping up an act. Most of the time. And now, I'm going to cuddle my girl, because in her sleep she isn't angry with me.