Life.

I started hiding from my blog when the depression started creeping in more. Why I'm so afraid to open up and share when I'm depressed, I don't know. But life gets stressful or I get sad and I withdraw. It seems to be a pattern.  Yesterday, I finally gathered up my nerve and called the doctor to make an appointment. Until then, I'll keep my escapism-through-books up and let DJ help me. He told me yesterday that he's on "Team Stacy" and will help me any way he can. I love that man.

This time, I think it's anxiety more than depression. I have two major stressors right now. First is Ike's school. He has no free time. Home from school, straight to homework, then to football, then back to homework and end up in bed too late. Next morning, he's tired from too little sleep, is cranky and hard to get ready and the cycle just repeats over and over and over. He spends 2 hours a night on homework and it isn't enough, to be honest. Thank God he is such a good sport and a 'do what I'm supposed to do' kind of kid. I hate feeling like the bad guy all the time and I hate that so much of our interactions are school based. It will probably get better when football is over but that's still a month away and I am exhausted now. I just wish I could do more to help him. I wish I could help him connect the dots on reading so that school would be easier for him. Watching your child struggle through something that most people take for granted is so hard.

The second is Ana. She started therapy a few weeks ago because of some diabetes issues. She was becoming obsessed about testing and was checking her blood 20 times a day. Literally. She was testing 12 times at school and it's only 7 hours. I found a therapist that works with children that are living with chronic conditions and we had a good first meeting. She was actually able to give us a plan that eliminated the test compulsion in a day. Unfortunately, she also brought up a lot of Ana's old separation anxiety issues. That same day she was crying about how much she misses me while she's at school. A few days later and she started getting crazy lows. It was a constant stress for me. No matter what I did, she'd end up in the 40s and 50s. One afternoon she had over 70 undosed carbs. SEVENTY. And I had her basals running at 10%. That night she was high and it was confusing. I reviewed all her settings, dropped quite a few and the next day she was worse. With a 1% basal. I was panicking and couldn't figure out how to stop it. And then the nurse called and told me that she'd had another unexplainable number and she checked Ana's pump. Turns out Ana had been lying about every number. She was intentionally pretending to be low to make herself high. Why?!?! What was going on in her head?!?  I left work, headed to school and picked her up then headed to a park to chat. She lied. She denied. She pretended like she had no idea what I was talking about. I finally got through to her and found out her plan. Ana knew that if she threw up, I'd come pick her up. And she knows that if she is really, really high, she throws up. She decided to fake lows to get glucose to spike high to throw up to get me to pick her up. She's seven years old and devised this plan. :(  We addressed this and I truly didn't expect any issues again. This week, her therapist seemed helpful again but Ana is not thrilled about going. In a follow up conversation that night, I learned that she is sad most of the time. *heart breaks*  Now, she does have fun and is a pleasant, happy kid. But then I think about myself and how depression feels and I realize that even on my worst days, no one would guess because on the outside everything is totally normal. And, what's more alarming to me is that her evaluation of herself is that she's sad all the time. Her impression of herself is sadness. I can't even express how sad and worried it makes me.

So that's my life.

I want a day off.

A real one. A day without work, doctor visits, school work, dinner, whining children.  A day spent in pajamas with a pile of books. Oh, and if someone would cook me a fabulous dinner, even better. If my house suddenly sprouted an extra bathroom with a jacuzzi tub, that would be superb.

Ana came back to homeschooling in January. For the next four months, I did school with her on Wednesdays, Friday, Saturday and Sunday (I'm off on two of those days and work evenings on the other two.) The other days, I went to work. While I'm only part-time, it's still so time-consuming. Up early, spend 50 minutes getting myself and the kids ready, one on the bus and one to the sitter, commute to work, work, reverse route, get home and spend 2 hours going through backpacks, doing homework, starting dinner. I was exhausted. And my days off weren't really days off.

In my head, though, I kept telling myself that it was okay because summer break would eventually get here. I finished Ana's school and started doing more intensive work with Ike. His doctor appointments starting piling up, then school finally ended but Ana's appointments began.

How do I spend my days off? I spend hours in the car, drive all over, juggle tons of appointments and all their related paperwork. When the kids are sick, how do we cover it? Well, I work with a company that is always open and I have a job that is rather flexible so I cover everything. Not everything, I guess, but 98% of stuff. And that other 2% doesn't fall into my lap - it's stuff that I've specifically told DJ to handle.  I write Ana's health plan, I research diseases, I learn about diagnoses, I design the summer school program, read stacks of books about everything we're facing. I track logs and order meds. In case you haven't noticed, I'm basically pointing out that I have a serious Martyr Syndrome outbreak in my head. I've convinced myself that I am juggling everything. That everything is in my court. That the world would grind to a stop if I didn't do so much. Is that true? Nope. In fact, DJ handles our finances. He does 98% of the household stuff. With the kids each taking 1% and me doing nothing. ;-) He plays with the kids, teaches them how to ride bikes and listens to all the (really bad) jokes they make up. Do I want to trade jobs with him? Not at all. No way, no how. But, do I want to stop doing my jobs? Sometimes.

I've had Ana to the doctor twice and hospital once in the past 3 weeks. In that same time, Ike has been to two appointments. Our eye exams may fall in there somewhere, too. On my calendar, I have five more medical appointments in the next three weeks, plus I need to get Ana ready for camp and Ike ready for vacation. I have paperwork to complete for one of those visits and I have to make a two week diabetes log. That will be so much fun because we're having crazy times around here. Poor kid has been on multiple medications and have various infections (three labels so far) and each one has screwed with her numbers in a unique and unpredictable way. I'll take this log to the doctor and they will be appalled. And who will look like the crappy mom? Me. And since she's still not cured of everything, it's not like the charts are going to get any better.

*sigh*

I think my next completely unscheduled day is July 20. And I'll have both kids home with me all day.

Perhaps it's time to plan that movie day I wanted for my birthday :)

Or perhaps it's time to take a day off work and not tell anyone ;-) Drop off the kids, buy a bar of chocolate, pick up some new chick lit books at the library and just hide at home until it's time to pick up Ike and Ana.  You know, I think that's the most brilliant idea I've had in awhile. My little martyr self and I can hang out for awhile and then I can give her the boot!

Just imagine for a moment...

...that you are an I-cup, making your bra is a serious piece of your wardrobe
...and that one day, while you are at work

...you feel the last hook and eye unsnap.

That's exactly what happened to me today. The feeling you are overwhelmed with is panic.

Of course, I set myself up for this massive wardrobe malfunction. I have 5 hooks on the back of my bra, so this should never happen. If only I weren't such a lazy washer, though, because then the hooks wouldn't get tangled in everything else in the washer and they wouldn't bend out of shape. And if I actually sewed on the replacement hooks I bought a few months ago, it wouldn't matter. Or, if I did laundry more often, I wouldn't be forced to wear one with only 2 1/2 good hooks. But, alas, I am a lazy, distractable person and all of those 'shoulds' failed to occur.

Which is why I shouldn't have been surprised when I felt the give and instantly realized that I must have somehow previously undone 1 1/2 of those hooks throughout the day.

Very carefully, since the bo.obage (gotta watch those google search terms ;) ) is still in the cups, I stood up, walked over to the cubicles nearest me and managed to bum a few safety pins off a coworker.

Even more carefully, I headed for the restrooms, locked myself in the handicapped stall and removed my shirt. I had this theory that I would pull the bra around my body so that the back was in the front, then pin it and twist it back around. Yeah, maybe that worked at 12...my efforts were a laughable disgrace. My bo.obs were in the way, my band isn't baggy at all, I was sweaty. I then thought about removing my bra, pinning it and pulling it over my head. I quickly discarded that as unlikely because how would I ever get the band over, then under, my breasts?? I tried pinning the bra while wearing it. Not a good idea.

Finally, in a moment of desperation, I removed the bra, inspected the hooks and then, using my teeth, managed to bend enough back to make them work. Sort of. I had to do a little shoving to get some of the hooks through the eyes. But, with the 2nd hook half-hooked and the 3rd and 5th completely hooked, I re-dressed and headed back to my desk.

Where I made no sudden movements and never shifted my upper arms for the rest of the afternoon.

I think perhaps I'll actually take the time to replace the hooks on a few bras tonight...