Struggling

I knew this week would be the hardest for me, hard for so many reasons. Call it a self-fulfilling prophecy or, as Rob likes to point out, I'm good at throwing pity parties but it's been just as hard as I imagined. If it wasn't for the boys I wouldn't have got out of bed yesterday or today. The 4th of July is my favorite holiday but this year I wasn't looking forward to it. I wanted to be at Bridgeport with good friends, having fun, instead of doing laundry and running to Walmart. I'm doing my best not letting the boys see me cry, mainly because I feel bad every time P asks why I'm sad. For awhile I told him it was allergies but he's too smart and saw through that white lie. So I'm trying to make the best of it. He and I bought some fireworks to let off tonight once the sun goes down. Natalie, one of our friends, Facetimed me from the Bridgeport parade. We only got to talk for about 30 seconds due to bad cell service but it was the highlight of my morning! I'm hoping that when I wake up tomorrow, knowing P's birthday and the 4th are behind us, that I'll wake up happy again. One can hope, right?