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I stopped taking my Zoloft back in June simply because I ran out. I kept meaning to make a follow up appointment to talk to my doctor about a refill, but as each day went by I felt better and warmer and happier and decided it was as good a time as any to stop. It wasn’t necessarily a smart, well thought out, medically advised decision. There was just so much going on – so many adventures, so many trips, so much SUNSHINE – that I forgot to make the appointment and before I knew it I was too busy to feel sad and frustrated and angry all the time.

It wasn’t an act of God or a miracle that I felt better. My anxiety reached an all-time high when Caroline was about 15 months old, which was exactly when we began weaning. A few people reached out to tell me they had experienced the same crazy hormone fluctuations and depression when they had stopped breastfeeding. It turns out it’s an actual thing, although not something that’s extremely well known.

The Zoloft got me through weaning and over that hormonal bump that made me feel like I was losing my mind. It was like a key and a sliver of light under the door I was banging my head against, trying to figure out how to escape my frustration.

Besides the medication, using hemp flower for anxiety  and the light (sunshine, brightness, longer days) made a huge difference. I used to roll my eyes at people who claimed Seasonal Affective Disorder with their sunlamps and their dread of winter. How can that be a real thing?

My apologies to everyone who I ever secretly thought was making it up, since there is no doubt in my mind that the short dark days played a huge part in my anxiety.

Maybe it’s an actual vitamin D deficiency or maybe it’s a feeling-the-sunshine-on-my-skin-makes-me-happy deficiency, but when the days warm up and we spend more time outside I am always better. A better mom, a better wife, a better person. The lightness makes me lighter.

With Labor Day weekend behind us the evenings getting shorter by the day and I’m starting to worry a little bit. September and October are beautiful, fun-filled months for us in New England. There’s still plenty of time to spend outside, plenty of apples to be picked, the perfect pumpkins to find for jack-o-lanterns, hay mazes to explore.

But beyond that, there’s winter. Cold. Dark. The stress of the holidays. Although December might be my very favorite month now (Caroline’s birthday AND Christmas!) there’s no doubt trying to split up family time and E’s crazy work schedule and weather-related delays and cancellations and ruined travel plans can crush my festive spirit pretty quickly. I’m feeling a little stressed just thinking about it. And the heating bill. And the snow. And now my eye is twitching.

I’m thinking I should probably go ahead and make an appointment now to talk to my doctor, rather than waiting until I get overwhelmed and the thought of adding one more thing to my plate makes me want to just curl up under the covers and cry. I don’t necessarily want to restart the Zoloft (or anything else) now. I’d like to be prescription free when we start trying for baby #3 if possible, although I’m also a little worried pregnancy could do what weaning did and things might get out of control again quickly. But I think it’s a good door to have open.

So for now I’m floating through the end of summer, mindful of what’s coming but not letting it overshadow these beautiful days. This weekend is the best weekend of the year around here (Greek Festival and Italian Food Festival within walking distance, town fair in our old town) and my biggest problem is we have too many friends to hang out with. It’s a pleasant kind of busy-ness, rather than the overwhelming kind. Let’s hope I can recognize the difference if and when it comes and know enough to ask for help.

I feel like this cat knows everything I wish I did about life.

My last posts about E’s hideous work schedule and struggling to parent my preschooler came across wrong and I’ve been feeling dishonest. I miss E, my husband, the guy I married, a ton. I miss talking to someone about what we did that day. I miss sharing dinner with someone who doesn’t throw food at me and demand a toy and fries instead of his mac and cheese (I curse the day I bought that first Happy Meal). I miss someone else taking out the trash and mowing the lawn. The LIFE part is sort of overwhelming to do alone after not doing it alone for most of the last 8 years. And although I struggle with consistent, positive parenting I’m also enjoying the crap out of my kids. It helps that I’m writing this after we’ve had a lovely morning and that we have fun stuff planned every day until school (school!!) starts on Tuesday, but I don’t feel like I’m struggling to keep my head above the stream of challenges.

I have gotten used to this all-the-time mom thing. My little family – my daily we – is just one person smaller most of the time. We leave the house. We take vacations. We go to the beach. We buy groceries. We read lots and lots and lots of books. I don’t even cringe when I realize I’m doing bedtime alone every day. I’ve actually pushed the kids’ bedtimes back so I can spend more time with them – evenings are lonely when no one is coming home to talk to. So You Think You Can Dance is only good company for a couple episodes before you realize it’s kind of sad to comment out loud to the cat on Cat’s crazy outfit.

We have fun, the kids and I. We’re good together. Even when I’m failing at the technical details of parenting they’re always ready to forgive me, give hugs and kisses and go on another adventure.

Even though saying it seems like sacrilege to the gods of warm weather, popsicles and iced coffee, I think we’re ready for our fall adventures to start. Caroline has outgrown this outfit – our favorite all summer – and it’s a smack-you-in-the-face kind of metaphor for how this season of our life is ending.

I might cry the day she outgrows those shoes though. I know she will.

Our carefree days with no schedule and no responsibilities and spur-of-the-moment fun at the zoo are officially over. Evan has school Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays. Both kids have gymnastics on Wednesdays. It’s making me doubt this whole preschool situation a little. As good as I know it will be for both of us to get a little time apart, it feels like I’m sending a piece of my heart off into the world to fend for itself.

I promise I’m trying not to write a post filled entirely with the most cliched mother cliches ever. I’m so blessed. My kids help me see the world in a new way. I love them so much my heart might explode. Being a mom is the best job in the world.

But those are all mommy cliches for a REASON.

Caroline is such a big girl and so smart and understands almost everything that I’m thinking about sending her to school after her birthday. Two year old preschool has always been something I thought was silly – it’s just DAYCARE, don’t try to make it sound fancy – but even if all she does all day is hang out with other 2 year olds and scribble with crayons and eat Goldfish at least it would be with actual trained teachers who could focus on building her skills instead of a mom who just takes Instagram photos of her.

I like to think knowing my own strengths and weaknesses makes me a better mom.

But then I will be childless for 5 hours a week and that kind of free time might be too much for me. I could run! I could shop! I could sit on a park bench alone and read a book! I might also sob for days and/or catch a case of baby fever that ends with spontaneous triplets. The possibilities are endless.

Here comes Fall, y’all. We’re so ready for the adventure. Are you ready for us?

Our lives are upside down right now, or maybe sideways, trying to revolve around E’s crazy work schedule. He’s not at sea – it would be a poor choice to try to take his submarine out into the ocean, since half of it is still a just twinkle in the shipyard’s eye. And for that I’m thankful. But he’s Very Busy And Important at his job in a way he has never been in the past and handling everything about the kids, the house, the cars and our life is starting to wear on me. Especially because although there is an end in sight, things are going to get worse before they get better – and “better” is still going to suck.

I feel the need to insert a disclaimer every time I talk about my life as a Navy spouse to head off the eye rolling. I am 100% aware of my privilege in complaining about my life. There are billions of people across the world who are worse off than me, millions in America who would kill for a stable job and steady income and amazing, free (socialized!) healthcare, thousands of families whose loved ones are deployed to battlefields and war zones and much more dangerous conditions that an office in Connecticut and probably two dozen other spouses stationed right here on E’s boat who are dealing with problems much worse than mine. But just like someone who goes from making $100,000 a year would have a hard time adjusting to making only $25,000 a year, I’ve gone from having a husband around 50-60 hours a week to one I only see 4 or 5 hours a week. Total. And the kids see him even less. We’re adjusting.

ALSO, since I’m already on a super-tangent, I am not in any way comparing my single-parenting of my kids while E is at work to an ACTUAL single parent. It’s not even kind of close to the same thing. A paycheck magically shows up in my bank account every 2 weeks even if all I’ve done all week is take Instagram photos of my food and buying crap at Target and having random bits of my body removed for fun (yah healthcare!) so my life is pretty good.

And just like that I’ve written a whole post about why I shouldn’t even both to write this post. I would suggest to myself “Self, quit while you’re ahead!” but I don’t actually feel ahead. I feel forever behind.

I’m torn between trying to fill our days with as many things as possible and holing up in a blanket fort on the couch to watch Disney Jr all day. I don’t want to take the kids out to the zoo and the aquarium and the park and lunch only to find out E got home early and we missed our only chance to see him. If we stay home to see him there’s a huuuuuge stretch of morning when the kids are awake and bored and I start to lose my temper because I know we’re only going to get an hour with Daddy anyway. The worst was trying to split the two – we got home JUST in time to watch Daddy walk out the door. Both kids were hysterical for an hour.

In some ways, life would be easier if this was a deployment. There would be regular family support group meetings giving us updates. Our bank account would be in better shape thanks to extra pay and E not having to eat unexpectedly on the run or drive back and forth to work. I could use that cute DVD Sesame Workshop sent me to explain to the kids Daddy was gone for a while but would be back. I would feel much less guilty about planning fun family trips and vacations and outings without E. Right now I worry I’m abandoning him, being unsupportive of his job, excluding him from our family (or at least I worry HE feels that way) when, no. I’m not doing it. The NAVY is doing it.

It’s a life I enjoy, mostly. One I signed up for willingly and knowingly after growing up in a military family. But right now? It freaking sucks.

One of the best things about being three years old is that everyone is your friend. My kid runs up to another kid on the playground and says “Hey, wanna slide?” and they’re off to have adventures, even if they never see each other again after that day. Kids that age like pretty much all the same things and believe in the Truth of Childhood: Climb it if it can be climbed, always run as fast as you can, and anything can be a pirate ship. They don’t know enough about the world yet to judge or condemn or turn their noses up at kids who want to join in so everyone gets to play. It’s beautiful and pure and I wish I was three years old again on a daily basis.

Or at least that was the world Evan lived in until this week. My heart is breaking a little all over again just thinking about it.

We’ve made a habit of visiting the park in the evenings, so Mommy can get some exercise, the kids can run their wiggles out and we can all enjoy as much sunlight as possible before it starts getting dark at 5 pm. There are two playgrounds at this particular park – a bigger one meant for older kids and a tot lot meant for littles. Caroline has no preference – as long as it has a swing, she’s happy. The big playground was crowded on Wednesday, so we took a stroll around the lake to the smaller park for some low-key fun.

When we got there, the situation looked perfect. There were two little girls – probably 5 and 6 – on the playscape. Evan ran off to join them and I put Caroline in a swing for a marathon pushing session. A few minutes later Evan can running back, looking a little upset.

“That little girl said I can’t slide, Mommy!”

“It’s OK honey,” I reassured him, “You’re allowed to slide if you want to. Just be nice to your friends and use kind words and remember you’re not the boss of them, OK?”

“OK Mommy!” he said and ran back to try again with kind words and a gentle voice. My boy is really good at using his kind words and gentle voice.

But I forgot the magic age of insta-friendships doesn’t last that long and by kindergarten little girls don’t always want to play with little boys, especially if they already have a girl friend to play with. Despite his best efforts, Evan was rebuked again and told he wasn’t allowed to play. “Go away, boy!” I heard from across the playground, and my heart sank knowing what I was going to hear next. My sweet little ginger, his offer of friendship crushes like a leaf under a pink Dora shoe, burst into tears and ran into my arms.

As I reassured him it wasn’t his fault – he was still a good boy, a nice friend, he had done everything right but sometimes people don’t want to play with us – I got a lump in my own throat. Oh how I know that feeling! I am overflowing with empathy when it comes to rejection and being left out and worrying that everyone is hanging out doing fun stuff without telling you. Even as I was telling Evan it was OK to cry but he shouldn’t let those mean girls affect his self worth – in the most toddler-friendly words I could think of – I realized I have never, ever been able to take my own advice.

Right now I can fake it, because my words to him are more powerful than my emotional reaction or my words to myself when I don’t think he’s listening. But the gravity of helping to shape my children’s entire emotional life if overwhelming. I miss the days when the only kid-related problems were whether or not they were sleeping through the night or if I was a bad mother for not cutting their grapes in half. I’ll take the baby stage back in a second rather than deal with the drama and heartbreak of my children’s friendships and unfriendships and fake friendships. I can’t even deal with my own friendships without chewing my nails into little stubs of worry and self-doubt. What if they don’t want to play with me?

So for now I just hug my boy and tell him he’s kind and good and beautiful and I adore him. I dry his tears and help him climb the jungle gym and cheer for his upsidedown sliding antics so he has the confidence to keep being himself. And I hope and pray he always feels that way, whether he’s 3 or 33.

I can’t believe a week ago I was in NYC. Not that this week was busy – it was, in fact, the laziest I have ever been since having children – but it feels like a million years since I was hugging my people. At least this week ended with one of my peoples coming to visit!

Sunday:

BEBEH FEVAH

Just hanging out here, 50 feet over the river on a train with the door open. NBD.

Epic puzzle ball is epic

Monday:

I told them we were going to go through the toy box and give away the toys they don’t play with anymore. Their reaction was to sit on it.

So I did it while they were sleeping. One giant bag of trash, one medium bag for Goodwill, two bags of baby toys put away until I have a baby again.

Tuesday:

Somehow, a cool fisheye lens makes my dirty house look less awful

I took this picture right before I fell asleep on the couch too

Yes, that looks safe.

Wednesday:

Love is patient (with the baby), love is kind (to the kitty)

At the aquarium, er…I mean the grocery store. Whatevs, he likes the lobsters.

Caroline takes sleeping very seriously

Thursday:

I don’t even know

What do you mean “poor choices”, Mom?

Fish-eye bathtime

Friday:

This is why I never say “no” to her. THAT FACE.

Sometimes we play NEXT to our friends

And sometimes we share a stool with them

Saturday:

Snack break at Hasbro’s Big Back Yard

Aoudads are like mountain goats – good climbers. Very similar to toddlers.

Caroline and JD check out the penguins while Kim and I die of cuteness

Did you take any camera phone photos this week? Link up with one or lots using the linky below and grab the code (so it shows on your blog too!) over at Amy’s . It’s really fun!