Once upon a time I was good about sending thank-you cards and birthday cards and “just because” cards, but now, not so much.

I feel like now, actually right now as I am writing this, I am in constant survival mode. My phone has binged 10 times in the last seven minutes and I don’t want to pick it up. I should have never sent that picture of “Baby P” in a group text, because now I will be sitting here trying to concentrate on writing this column while I know my family is going back and forth with each other discussing the picture of “Baby P” up on all fours looking as if she is going to crawl.

“Wow, she is so advanced,” my dad will write. “Are those her Christmas pajamas she is wearing?” my sister, the constant comedian will ask. “Isn’t it 2 p.m.? Why haven’t you dressed her yet?” my mom will question.

This back and forth between my family members about “Baby P” will go on into the night, my phone binging with each comment.

What is my point? I really don’t know. I started talking about cards, right? OK, let’s get back to that. When the BIL and I were dating, I gave him eight cards on his birthday, and as much as I hate to admit it, this year he didn’t even get one card. My sister-in-law, who always makes sure that a card and gift arrives for me on time for my birthday, also didn’t get a card from me (her birthday was Sunday) nor did she get a thank-you card from me for my on-time birthday gift. Same story goes for my mother-in-law, who also gave me a very thoughtful gift and whose birthday was two weeks ago. Oh, and now that I look up at the calendar I see that I will also be missing the birthday of my niece and nephew (twins who were born March 3). Sorry kids, your Aunt Jen is dropping the ball left and right and all the way down the street where it is sure to get hit by a car.

I knew when I had the baby and decided that I still wanted to work and go to school and keep this column that I was probably biting off a little more than I could chew. But I typically enjoying eating more than I should, so I went for it. The problem is that I love and I am passionate about everything I am doing, so there is nothing that can be taken off my plate. I’m like a fat lady at a cruise buffet, stuffing myself silly.

On another note, “Baby P” will be 6 months old this week. She has this new way of communicating via high-pitch scream. While the BIL (Boy I Love), who is enamored with his daughter, has dubbed her glass-breaking shriek as “warrior training,” I have other words to explain it. But perhaps that is because I am not as familiar with warrior training as some people. I hope she soon grows into “ninja training” because they are stealth. I fear this supposed “warrior training” scream might lead the neighbors to believe that we are spending our time pinching our child rather than hugging her.

I look at my little warrior and I think about the day she will be overwhelmed with school, sports, volunteer work, friends and whatever else she decides to bite off. Will I tell her to cave in and give up something? I hope not. I hope I tell her how proud I am of her and how much I know she can do anything and everything she sets her mind to, but that having it all isn’t always a walk in the park. Having it all and trying your best takes a lot of effort and sometimes sacrifice. I think I will tell her that I, too, have felt like giving up and the times that I did, are the only regrets I have.

However, the times that I didn’t give up are when I felt the most proud to be me. I will also tell her that she has an awesome family and that if there is a year where we don’t get a birthday or thank-you card, not to worry, all will be forgiven.