Watch Out For Flying Mortars

              Today has been one of the roughest I've faced in a long time.  After only about 2, maybe 3 hours of scattered sleep last night, I slept nearly all morning.  That is, while being woken every couple of hours to feed an infant.  It was like a perfect storm of exhaustion, stress, and no way to change the fact that my husband's work had kept him tied up for almost 2 full days with me running point on the house and kids. 

               I haven't had kid-free time in awhile.  More than a week since I've been in my garden alone, even for half an hour.  My quick 10-minute trips out there to water and scan for problems don't count.  And I can feel the strain, my obsessive mind taking over telling me that if I don't move my ass and get ground prepared soon, I will lose those beautiful tomato and pepper plants in the greenhouse.  Having been planning this shit since before Christmas, it frustrates me to no end to think that my work might be for nothing. 

               Now, I've already eaten some decent salad and used herbs out of the garden this year, but it's far from over.  In fact, the main event is just getting underway.  But I'm very limited in my time and ability to knuckle down and really bust sod when two small people are constantly needing me every moment.  No, literally.  Every.  Single.  Moment.  Every.  Day.

              I keep sacrificing over and over because I think it's the right thing to do, but now the stakes are getting high.  After Jon got back from errands with McDonald's for me (which I ate at 3pm, because I hadn't had a chance to get away from the baby long enough to eat yet.), I couldn't stop crying.  I was crying nonstop and trying to eat my cold french fries and double cheeseburger, all the while mad at myself because I knew he has to go back to work.

               The best way I can describe one of these days is a violent inner battle.  Not all cute like Inside Out, but with blood and guts spraying in the wind, bullets whizzing past, and mortars flying around. 

                I told my husband this was going to be my new code phrase for a hard depression battle-

"The mortars are flying."  

            Dear readers, depression is REAL.  And it is a BITCH to deal with when people are counting on you.  All you want to do is hole up and hide somewhere, eat and do whatever you have to in order to feel like a human being again and not a piece of trash.  I know I usually try to end on a more positive note, but I do not have the mental capacity or the energy today.

            So hopefully the next time I post something, it will be a little more happy.  Probably a good recipe, or cute pictures of my kids, or tips on how to save money with one income and multiple kids.  Something useful.  But for now, I need this space to be in my own head, to fight the battle until I feel I can continue for awhile longer. 

            Until then, I hope you can forgive my somber tone.