so i woke up saturday morning and lay in bed thinking about the previous day.
friday wasn't sooo bad. i was def more normal.
rough start, but the day overall was good.
i made dinner.
a healthy dinner that i didn't burn or forget ingredients in making it taste like utter crap. thursday night's dinner was a sorry combo of burnt and missing ingredients.
ok, so what should have been a 20 minute to make meal took me an hour, but still.
i got out of bed.
today will be good. yesterday was pretty good, so today will be good.
i walked into the bathroom.
i caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
my jaw dropped.
i was in my pj's from thursday night. it was saturday morning.
my shirt was different. i had to change it a few times friday because the baby spit up on it.
i stared at myself.
then i spoke to the girl with the vacant look wearing 2 day old clothes, "you have to fight. you are not fighting it."
she just stared back, but she heard.
saturday was the day i couldn't make lunch.
i made a crappy tasting dinner, but it was well balanced, so that has to count for something, right?
i did pull it together and give the older 3 a bath. and do their hair. and brush their teeth. and we sang, "if you're happy & you know it" for a long time. and i didn't get angry or cry.
it was pretty major.