Breaking point

I finally broke yesterday and had my meltdown, though to be honest, it had started the day before when I cried in and off over two and a half hours. The Boy found me crying,  slumped over baby A, inconsolable to his words. I was in whimpering territory, moving swiftly info howling.

Feeling sorry for me, he took an emergency day off and we had a day out. Deciding on where to go alone was hard enough. We chose the new Whitney museum as it would be air conditioned, not too far and somewhere we'd not been in a while.

Whilst we essentially paid $45 to feed or children beside the cloakroom and a quick whip round one of the eight floors, I felt energized for having left the house. No mean feat considering I've essentially been tied to the apartment since the beginning of April.

I would be in floods of tears after waking up at three to feed the boys and finally putting them to bed at seven thirty am usually (multiple milk refills, two poos, two open air wees, one of which was in the bath, and a spewing session), but I'd had fresh air, a change of scenery and used my legs. I feel good tired for the moment.