Last week I entered the realm of the medicated, and let me tell you, it’s already made a world of difference. My marriage is better, my life seems easier, and I don’t always feel like I’m on the verge of a meltdown. My doctor put me on Zoloft since it’s best for breastfeeding mommies like myself (that’s right, she’s almost a year old and I’m still going... that was a topic of interest at her first birthday party... “so when is THAT going to stop?” No wonder I’m medicated), although she really wanted me to go on Lexapro. But the Zoloft seems to be working fine. All the vitamins and exercise in the world couldn’t have corrected the misfiring in my brain, thanks for asking though, Tom Cruise.
My medication was put to the test over the weekend, when Ryan and I had Lyric’s first birthday party. My house was jam packed full of people, and my mother, aunt, and cousin barked orders at me in rapid succession, until I felt like my head would explode and people would have chunks of my brain along with their birthday cake, since I forgot to buy one of those giant tubs of ice cream.
The girl made out like a bandit though. She got a little too much, if you ask me. But I only say that because all this junk has to be crammed into my house. I can’t even imagine having another kid. Where would he/she go? So that’s the end of birthday parties of that caliber.
Thank goodness for western medicine. Pictures of icing covered baby face to come.