As hard has January was for me, February was harder.
I kept thinking it would get better.
People kept telling me it would get better.
But it didn't. It just kept getting worse. And worse.
It was a great month for the billable hour, but other than that it was all around bad. Probably because it was a great month for billables.
It was a dark, dark month for me personally, and I hated almost every minute of it. I woke up each day (internally) kicking and screaming. Food lost its flavor. Sleep lost its restfulness.
But it wasn't all bad.
Tate's resiliency prevailed, and he came through his surgery with flying colors. (He's still hungry and on his liquid diet-- but less than one week of that left!) On the rare days I make it home before he's in bed, I get to enjoy his squealing delight to see me.
Casey's middle-of-the-night bathroom breaks became mother-son time, and he'd happily chatter about his day as he sat next to me, before I walked him to bed.
And Marcie. Marcie's a tough cookie to crack sometimes. But she still likes to sneak into our bedroom early in the morning, crawl into our bed and snuggle up with me.
I'm ever hopeful that March will champion in some warm, happy spring days . . .
A girl can dream, can't she?