Depression: So Fickle

You wake up and the world's about to end. Your heart's beating out of your chest, your muscles are all tense. But your sweet little 3 year old is cuddled up next to you in complete and utter blissful slumber. It's 5:30 in the morning. You try to go back to sleep and somehow succeed only to be woken up at 6:30 by your 2 year old calling, "Mommyyyyy, Mommyyyyy. My doddie need mookiiiies." Translation: "Hey, come get me out of this crib so my stuffed doggie (meaning, I) can get some yummy cold milk". You feel okay and you hear your husband climbing the stairs (thank you). Then your heart starts going again and the little one is crying for Mommy. Begrudgingly, you get out of bed and head downstairs to snuggle with monkey #2. As time progresses, and your husband's departure for work becomes imminent, the panic gets worse. After all the hugs and kisses, he tells you to try to have a good day, to relax, and you start crying as he leaves the house. He comes back in the front door and you have a conversation you quickly forget because it involves all the hows and whys and what do we dos. All the while, your 2 year old is rubbing your back and asking you, "you cwying?". Mommy's okay. That's become a well used response around here in the last few days, "Mommy's okay, Mommy's fine."

I manage to get my ass in whatever gear I find available, and go to the YMCA. I need to work out. I do it for a living. I teach people how to Zumba and I love it. Not so easy when you're 22 weeks pregnant though and I haven't worked out in 2, 3 weeks. I see people I haven't seen since my last class, I get in a reasonable workout before Monkey#1 decides not to share with Monkey #2 in the child care thing and Monkey #2 begins to scream like a pterodactyl. We head out for shakes and mac and cheese and Monkey #1 has a massive meltdown over not being able to eat in the car. It results in my prying her from her car seat, taking a few blows and trying to calm her down for half an hour. I also have to take her NickJr.com privileges away for the hitting. Somehow, monkey #2 and I manage a nap while Monkey #1 makes a giant spider web in the kitchen with a ball of yarn. Amazingly, I'm no longer feeling depressed or anxious. (Thanks to the drugs, more on that later). The rest of the day falls into place. A few tantrums, a few me, me, mes and that's mine, mine, mines. Clean up, feed up and the hubs gets home with presents. We love presents. We love Papi.

We (actually my husband) are currently trying to get the monkeys ready for bed. They're running in circles and squealing in laughter and I'm happy, contented and only moderately anxious. Now I face the bedtime routine which really isn't all that bad because Monkey #2 actually likes her crib and falls asleep in an instant. This was my day. It was a fairly good day. The background stories will come beginning tomorrow. And man, does it feel good to write again. Until tomorrow...