From the outside looking in, I can see why so many people say this to me. I have four kids. One has autism. One has Down syndrome. Casey can be tough. Abby gets sick a lot. My husband has an hour commute to work each way and so he’s gone from 8 in the morning to 7 at night (which could be WAY worse, I know…).

So I’ll tell you what I’ve told those who have said this to me:

First off, I should make it clear. I don’t REALLY have it that tough. It looks like it on paper, but it’s really not horrifically hard every minute of every day. Casey can be tough. But he’s not all of the time. Not even half of the time now that his meds are working. Not even close. And have you met him? That kid is FANTASTIC! I adore him to pieces. He’s a good kid. He really does try hard.  He has his issues, but for the most part, we can predict when it’s going to be tough, and work around it. And it gets better every single day. Plus, even when he’s going through his funks, he’s at school for 7 hours a day.

And then there’s Abby. She has a lot of therapy. She has a constant river of snot that she hates having wiped. She’s given us a couple of scares. But other than that, she’s as pleasant as can be most of the time. She’s my little friend. She’s with me most of the day. I love it. I love being with her. She’s joy wrapped up in a tiny little girl.

So we’re good, yes? No. There are times when it’s tough. Really tough. The lack of sleep sucks.  Especially when it’s because Abby’s sick. There’s time where the stress does wear at me. Mornings are tough. Getting Casey ready and out of the house in the space of time between when he wakes and when I get the meds finally in him is a feat.  I hate therapy with Abby with all of my heart. Because I don’t have the attention span for it.  Because my house has to look somewhat presentable when the therapist comes because they are mandatory reporters… So on top of the regular mom crap that I hate SO MUCH (I hate cleaning. HATE IT) I’ve got all of these little extra things that sort of chip away at my resolve.

That’s where the antidepressants come in. OOOOOh hiissssss. Is this something I shouldn’t be talking about? Meh. I really don’t care. Why? Because I think it’s important that women, especially mothers of children with special needs, know that it’s not wrong to need a little bit of help.

Being a mom by itself is super tough. Add to it all of the little extra things that come along with having a kid with special needs and you’ve got a very depleted mother.  For me, that depletion meant that I didn’t have any emotional reserves. None. When things got too tough, I hid. It’s like I couldn’t take anything ELSE on besides the load that’s on my plate. I didn’t FEEL depressed so I didn’t think I was. But I was lashing out at my husband, I was angry. I was sad. It was unlike any depression I had gone through. I was used to the “teenage” depression. Where you’re tired all of the time and you hate your mother. This was stress-induced and probably has a lot to do with my hormones, too. So I take prozac. And it helps. A LOT.

Then there’s my husband. He is the very reason I can do everything that I have to. It’s like sometime in Heaven before we were born, God said, “Okay, I’ll give you this dude, and he’s THE BEST, but in order to have him, I’m going to have to throw in some tough stuff” and I signed right on the line. I can handle anything because I have Lance.  He’s a walking talking Valium pill. He is my very CALM. Have you been around him? It makes you sleepy.  And it’s just what I need. He isn’t crazy. He doesn’t really care about getting out and seeing the world or being overly active in anything besides sports and food, but he’s CALM. He’s happy to do whatever I ask of him and he follows me down whatever crazy path I want to go.  I’m a lucky girl.

Then, the outlet. This blog is my outlet. I feel better after I write, and even better after I hear that something that I’ve said or done has helped someone else. It’s like freaking crack to me.  I used to have hockey as my outlet. It was the very best of times. But no one out here wants to play with someone who sucks and refuses to play on Sundays. Because Sunday is a special day. And a special person. Have you met Sunday? She’s fantastic.

And that’s the other thing that’s been SO helpful about blogging. I’ve met some of my new most favorite people because of it. Like Sunday. And Holly. And Deanna (their blogs are linked on the side) And this other dude. His name is Jim and he’s my Blog Nemesis. When I first found his blog I wanted to LASH OUT. Break things. Because his writing is so good and he’s so funny that I was sure the minute anyone found out about his blog they’d go ahead and abandon me and my stupid blog. But then I came to terms with it, sort of. There are going to be better at this than me. There are MANY others who are (most. most are). But instead of being okay with it, for some reason, I’ve decided to make him my nemesis. I’m not sure what that means for him, but I’m sure it makes him tremble in fear. Like a girl.  So, go visit him at his blog. You’ll be as thunderstruck as I am that his blog isn’t huge with thousands of adoring followers who do his bidding. If you decide after being there to join his army and leave mine, I’ll understand. I’ll hate you, but I’ll understand. You CAN join his followers without having to leave me.

Don’t leave me.

I digress.

Sorry about lack of crappy pictures. I just wanted to write to write. I wanted to add some pictures, but then that would mean I’d have to go upstairs and find my camera. And in order to do that, I’d have to clean. And I REFUSE.