I've been completely and utterly wiped out for the past week - a combination of stress, worry, panic attacks, and oh yes, believing that I could take care of three toddlers all by myself almost every night for two months straight. (Originally we couldn't find anyone to help, then I decided I could handle everything myself!) We just found two new sitters; I started walking and doing yoga again and telling myself to take things as they come. Right now, all I'm doing is laying down as much as possible. My body has hijacked me.

The kids do not like Subdued Mama, or, as I've been the past week, Zombie Mama. They want All Singing, All Dancing, Let's Put On A Show Mama, which is what I usually am. They have to learn that mama is human too and that when she's lying on the floor exhausted, jumping up and down on top of her might not be the best idea. They're learning. But they don't like it. Neither do I.

On the good side, Angela loaned me her special Purple Pony telling me "He is very good for hugging." and Sophie told me this morning that she wants to be an artist when she grows up, "just like Mama." Maybe they know more than I think they do.