My dear friend Lindsey suggested I do this blog as a source of therapy while we were consuming our vanilla Cokes (with a bit of Vodka) the other night. The idea of cheap therapy is appealing. Lord knows I could use the therapy, and with 3 kids, if it isn’t cheap, forget it.

I guess I should start by introducing myself. I am a 30-something mother of 3. My kids are 11, 7, and 14 months, and my marriage is a mess. My oldest is Autistic, and I am struggling with the decision of whether I allow him to go to a group home or not. My middle daughter is a drama queen, but she is brilliant, a perfectionist, and just a joy. Then there is my baby girl, one of those little surprises life throws you now and then.

My husband of 12 1/2 years. Well, this a complicated mess. I guess though, when isn’t marriage complicated. I was 19 when we got married, and seven weeks pregnant. In retrospect, it probably wasn’t the best choice. I wanted my baby to have a father, and I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought we would grow to love each other. That’s what I get for thinking.