I've been feeling down in the dumps lately. I've got a bit of the post-baby blues. Don't worry, I wouldn't say I am suffering from post partum depression. I have bonded nicely with my baby, I've stopped hating Andy (usually ends within the first six weeks after childbirth), and I don't cry uncontrollably. I've just hit a rough patch. Charlottte is now almost five months old and I'm back to work. The grind is grinding on my terribly. While I'm a big planner, the amount of time and pre-planning that goes into preparing for each day is taking its toll. The days are getting longer and we start each morning before the sun rises. It's a frantic, choreographed modern dance routine where the four of us fling ourselves around one another (well, Charlotte rolls), grabbing tooth brushes, hair brushes, bananas and wake-me-up beverages (for me, still- decaf coffee) within a 60-minute span. We rush out the door, our hearts pumping, and the girls fortunately sl...