Tales of a Monday Without My Happy Pills...

Monday was a bad day. Well, actually the last two weeks worth of Mondays have been bad ones. It was a combination of injuring my back twice in those two weeks, disappointment that I don't get to go see my sister (yet) like I had been planning to next week, and the housework closing in on me that I couldn't seem to find the motivation to dive into. It's amazing how much stacks up around you when you are pretty much out of commission for two weeks! My poor hubs did his best to pick up my slack but he works pretty long days so there just wasn't enough hours in each day to get it all done. The kids helped too but in all honesty I didn't make them help with the housework as much as I should of, instead relying on them more to lift and entertain Em when she was needy.

I've felt the funk settling around me for the last week but when I woke up yesterday and felt the fog, the world spinning because I didn't have a "happy pill" to take the night before, I knew that it was gonna be a doozy of a day. Every time I moved my head the world spun around me. Every time the world spun so did my stomach. I cursed the fact that I even have to take the stupid pills in order to be "normal" and that once again I didn't refill it in time to avoid this part of the process. The withdrawal effects strike fast and furious when I miss one and when I finally get some after refilling my prescription I'm like a junkie tearing into the bag, ripping off the bottle's child-proof cap and downing the capsule in one gulp while savoring the relief that the constant feeling of motion sickness will hopefully soon abate.

Em and I headed to the pharmacy, then straight back home where and I surveyed the mess that surrounded me downstairs, opting instead to trudge upstairs and collapse into the rocking chair in her room. I didn't have the energy to keep my breakfast down while doing dishes let alone everything else. "Just make it to lunch and naptime," I told myself. I sat there watching her play, half-heartedly answering her questions and sampling her "creations"  from her kitchen while feeling like I was only partially there, not really focused on anything at all. Somewhere in there an hour or two passed and at last it was lunch time. Chicken and Stars soup was served and at last, bless-ed naptime arrived. I tucked her in with a stuffed giraffe snuggled up to each shoulder and whispered, "I love you..." then snuck out the door. 30 seconds later I was in bed willing the world to please stop spinning. It was so frustrating to finally have my back feel good enough to actually get something done but I was too dizzy to conquer any of the housework calling my name!

I awoke at 4 and immediately groaned knowing that I had let the munchkin sleep way too long and that meant she would be up until 10:00 that night. I realized that the world had stopped it's constant spinning and that if I was careful about how fast I turned my head I could control the somewhat lessened sense of motion sickness (was that even correct grammar? hmmm...). The rest of the day went by at a snails pace. The kids came home from school. Arguments were had, chores were done. Dinner was leftovers cause standing long enough to cook actual food was just too much. Most of my mothering was done from the couch that night though I did trudge up the stairs around 8:30 to tuck the two older ones in bed with the still hyper toddler at my heels.

Thomas asked me to lay with him for a few minutes, he usually does, and I laid there and tried to be present as we discussed his day amidst being jumped on repeatedly by Em. At one point during the conversation T told me that I am the best mom in the world. "If he only knew...," I remember thinking. Of course, I was also very thankful for a little boy who loves me in spite of my.....insanity? Tucking Madison in came next and her beautiful smile as she hugged me goodnight and told me she loved me was such a welcome sight after that long day.

Matt came home sometime later, around 9 I think, and made the mistake of asking how I was doing. Not my back or my withdrawal symptoms, he said, but me. Oy vey! I cried a little while I ate the peanut M&M's he had brought me (I know, he's a keeper) and poured out my woes that are always magnified by the fact that my drugs aren't pumping through my system in their usual fashion. We watched our recorded shows from the DVR and laughed at Em's antics as we counted down the minutes until she would go to bed too, needing some time to ourselves. Finally at 10:00 on the dot the munchkin was changed, given her sippy cup and escorted to bed where she asked to rock in the rocking chair. I obliged, singing her a song that I've known since I was her age, ending abruptly when I couldn't seem to pull the end of the third verse out of my still muddled brain. She yelled "goodnight" and "I love you" through her closed door no less than 5 times to each of us.

I was glad for mind-numbing T.V. that night. It meant I didn't have to think any real thoughts or put together any real sentences. Finally the day was over. I had fought through and won. Maybe not with flying colors, nothing really got done after all, but I had survived and so had my kids.....and on some days, as a mother (especially one who's run out of her "Happy Pills"!), that's all you can ask.