Food banks are facing crisis this year. That's not news, but it should be. Why? Why do we suddenly hear about it now? Because more and more people are driven to these places to put food on the table at the end of the day? I think so. With bills going up, gas and electric and all the other utilities going up. Rent. Mortgages in crisis. And food becomes the last concern on our plates sometimes even though it may need to start coming first.

We've been lucky. Money is never really enough for our expenses, but we've got food and milk. So far. Where will it be next year? Where will it be if my blogging income tapers off? I don't know. I do know that my car insurance rates are going down a smidgeon, which is good news because we can't afford to not have our car. Living in the middle of nowhere, driving to get anywhere, with two kids soon to have a round of never-ending doctors and specialists and intervention programs and schooling. The Boy needs to get to work. I need to escape these baby blues before I have to add myself back into that train of doctors. Did I think it was hard to get therapy with one baby? How about two? And that second one will be every bit as small and fragile as the Toddler was when she first came out of the NICU.

I'm counting blessings. Really, I am counting them. But those baby blues are chasing me around the house last night and this morning until I think I'll lose my mind. Obsessing about milk supply. About production. About whether or not Robbie will have long term damage from being on the vent so long. About wanting him weaned off it already so that I can hold him next time I'm there. Maybe. Because I want to hold my itty bitty boy. I want to see his face, his whole face, for the very first time. Even if I still can't touch him, I want to see his face.