Excuse Me While I Lather My Child in This Toxic Death Cream

It's Memorial Day weekend. We are up at the cabin with family. A time where we are supposed to be resting and relaxing. A time of thankfulness. A time of remembering those who have given their lives for our freedom. My husband has been working overtime and doing freelance work so we've been looking forward to this trip for weeks. We even bought our twin 2-year-olds their first fishing poles and planned a treasure hunt. And then there's me. A massive ball of, "just take me to the sanitarium." I mean, one of my boys just looked at me and said, "Mama's tired." Yes. Yes, Bennett. Mama is tired. Mama is reeeaaal tired. I do my best to keep my emotional issues from my boys but they are getting older and more perceptive and there is only so much "fake it 'til ya make it" I can get away with. And I am realizing that you don't just have to have a mental illness like I do for this to be an issue. This world will make you crazy if you aren't there already. I am dead serious. We are all just out there slogging it out. Doing our best to raise our kids. To keep them safe. To protect them from the big bad world. But what happens when the world tells you that you are the problem? That you're not being careful enough. Aware enough. Diligent enough. That was my biggest fear coming into motherhood. In fact, for a majority of my life I was adamant that I was not going to have children. I didn't think, given my own childhood and my issues with anxiety and depression, that I w...
Source: Healthy Living - The Huffington Post - Category: Consumer Health News Source Type: news