{Deep breath.}

Today was a slow down and breathe deeply sort of day in the world of parenting. Little One was up from 2:30-5:00. In the morning. Middle and Oldest were up by a bit after 6:00. Then, at 6:45, Little was up again. I know, because Middle shouted from her crib, "Mama! Addishun. Cah-ing."

So begins the day.

It didn't get too much better.

Days like this are very hard for me. They are also scary. I want so desperately to get through this without sinking into postpartum depression again.

The screener at the hospital met with me before I was discharged, because I am so high risk. I'm high risk for a number of reasons, but the two greatest are that I am a past sufferer and that I had an emotional pregnancy. To say the least. But I don't want to take meds again, and I don't want to sink deep again. I just don't. The screener recommended taking an Omega-3 supplement. Apparently there are links to Omega-3 and postpartum depression. Hey, I'll do whatever it takes. So I'm taking it. 2,000 mg a day. So far, so good.

But days like today set me back. They freak me out. They make me wonder if I'm sinking or if I'm drowning or if I'm just a little bit crazy.

I need to remember that three kids is a lot. Especially when one of them is only 3 1/2 weeks old. And the next one is nearly in her terrible 2s. And the oldest is only 4. Three kids--three girls--under 5 is quite a handful. Especially when one of them is up for 2 1/2 hours during the night, and the others wake up only 1 hour after I finally fall asleep.

It's a lot. For anyone. So I just keep taking my Fish Oil pills and my deep breaths. But it still freaks me out a bit.

Being a Mom and Embarking on New Adventures

I've been awake for four hours so far today. That doesn't count the times I woke up while I meant to be sleeping. It's been a busy four hours, and Ellie has cried for almost all of them. There was a peaceful hour before she woke up, but then all hell--and runny noses--seems to have broken loose. I don't know what brought it on.

My head finally was aching so badly that I carried her upstairs and shut her in her room. And now I feel terrible about it. It's not like I used a dog kennel or anything like that. Her room is lovely--complete with a pink bean bag, bumble bee bookends, an empty diaper box that doubles as a boat, a comfy big-girl bed, a CD player, and a box of Kleenex that has been emptied one by one onto the floor too many times to result in smooth Kleenexes. And I brought books up with us. But I still feel awful. I just couldn't deal with the crying anymore. Does that make me a bad mom?

Maybe her problem is the fact that Liam is here today. She stays with him on Tuesdays while I work, and I watch him on Wednesdays while his mom enjoys a day of peace alone. If three crazy cats and a loud dog qualify as alone. Anyway, Ellie melted down last week Wednesday, too. She hit, she pushed, she cried, she whined, she screamed, and she horded toys. She doesn't like to share. She's going to eat Baby Megan, isn't she? Or lock her up in a dog kennel.

Thank God we don't have a dog.

In other news, we're camping this weekend. Clearly we're insane. At least Grandma found a nice camper for us all to use. Tomorrow, Ellie and Mommy will drive to meet "Bamma Binga" in way-too-cold-and-rainy Ludington where we'll enjoy four days and three nights on the coast of the Great Lake that looks like an ocean on stormy days. Did I mention the storm we're supposed to get tomorrow? Yeah. Clearly we're crazy. At least the camper has a TV and VCR. Plus I'm bringing cookies.

Then, next week we embark on Mission Potty Training. Clearly I'm insane.

By the way, if my daughter grows up to be as rude as the president of the United States is, I'm buying a dog kennel for her.