This morning I woke up an hour before Wesley did.  I got some coffee, sat down at the computer and enjoyed it.  Then I swept and mopped all three hardwood floors in my house and sorted a load of laundry.  When Wesley awoke we played and cooed and his brothers joined in on the fun.  We went outside.  He took his medicine and then we nursed and he drifted off to sleep for his morning nap.  I placed him in his swing and unloaded/loaded the dishwasher.  Fed the boys breakfast, surfed the web, did some more laundry.  Wesley slept about an hour and a half, we got up nursed and played and an hour later he is napping again. 

  Sounds like I have my life sorted.  Everything under control. 

  But this my friends, is what I might post on Facebook.  The things we choose to expose to our friends and families.  The pretty picture.  The good days.  The supermom moments. 

  I know good and well this is just a good day.  Tomorrow will be different. 

I am deep in the clenching grip of post partum depression.  This feels heavy.  Like something I'll never dig my way out of.  Ever so often I have heard me mutter to myself about how I should've gone to college... should've had something going for myself except this.  Don't get me wrong, I love my kids, would die for them.  But they've taken me away from myself.  It's not their fault.  They need me.  I need me. 

  Most days there is yelling.  Occasionally from me.  Mostly it's the boys fighting with each other.  Wesley's routines are so cray and vary day to day.  He doesn't sleep in the boba wrap anymore.  He sleeps in his swing or on me.  Which sometimes ties me down to where I can't tend to the older boys.  I need a clone of myself.  That way I could leave the house with the kids in it and everything wouldn't fall apart. 

  I need a break.  An outlet.  I.am.burnt.out.














*hanging my head in shame.   Let my white flag fly.  I surrender!!!!!!!