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I had a bit of a breakdown the other night. You know how it goes - crying on your husband's shoulder in bed, not being able to shut your mind off to try and sleep, feeling miserable enough to transfer over to the next day. All that jazz. As it so often happens, it started as one tiny thing and gushed open into a million others.

It seems my current 'button' that pushes me over the edge is my milk supply. Now, Adelaide has had formula before at daycare when necessary, and although I'm not a huge fan of it, I'd rather her have that than go hungry. But as best as I can, I want to make sure she's eating as much breastmilk as possible. So when my supply goes wonky, I tend to go wonky also. And the other night, my supply was going wonky. In hindsight, it was probably due to being sick over the weekend, or maybe not drinking enough milk and/or water myself, but at the time I was freaking. It was about 10pm the night before an 8-hour shift - for which I had just over a full bottle for Laidey (about 6 or 7 ounces all up). True, she could just have formula if she gets hunrgy, but I think I was in a bit of a fragile mood anyway, because it got me crying. Not just that, though. The whole thing about why I even have to work at all.

I don't want to be one of those people who bitches about "back in the day it cost a nickel to fill the car up, and it'd run for dickety-six miles on the sniff of an oily rag". But with the price of gas, plus the price of childcare, going to work often seems like an exercise in futility. I'm making US$7 an hour. Minimum wage. Yeah, it sucks. Childcare and gas costs approximately $37 per shift. So in order to break even, I need to work for at least six hours at a time. At the moment, they're giving me 8-hour shifts, which is good, but it's still only getting me $56 a shift, before tax. At the very, very most, I'm making $20 a shift. So sometimes it's kinda depressing to think about.

Plus there's the whole maternal thing. I like to work (mostly), but I also like being a mother. I love my baby like you wouldn't believe, and I love to spend time with her. I know being a stay-at-home mum isn't an option, but it's a truth I accept and act upon reluctantly.

So, take the "exercise-in-futility" mindset, weigh it against the "I-love-spending-time-with-my-baby" mindset, and add to the mix the "holy-crap-my-supply-is-running-low" mindset, and... well it ain't pretty. As I said before, my brain wouldn't shut off, I couldn't fall back onto the whole Scarlett O'Hara mantra of "I won't think about it now; I'll think about it tomorrow". It was there, in the front of my mind, and I couldn't ignore it. I was working for pennies a day, which was taking me away from someone I love fiercely, and I couldn't even make it up to her by supplying her with enough food for while I was gone.

Fun times.

And I learnt something about myself while I was bawling my eyes out. Most of the time, the things I'm crying about aren't what they appear. It really wasn't my supply, or that I'm not making much money at work. It's that I'm not at home. That's really what it comes down to. I found myself thinking, "If only I was home. If only I was home I could be making so much more money... I wouldn't have to pay for childcare because Mum or Kerrin or someone could watch Adelaide... I wouldn't be living in my in-laws' basement... I would feel so much happier at home..."

And that's pretty much the core of anything I'm ever upset or angry or frustrated about these days. Everything comes back to "if I were at home, things would be different/easier/better."

I've got to stop thinking that way.

Simply put, I'm not home, and I won't be home for some years yet, most likely. It sucks, but that's the truth of it. I married Aaron knowing (though perhaps not to such an extreme extent) that life would be difficult for one of us no matter where we lived, and we made the choice to live in the States. This is where I'm living, this is where my "home" is right now.

Now, I'm not saying I should completely turn my back on Australia, or that being homesick is wrong. But to blame all my problems on being here instead of there, and imagining that everything would be hunky-dory if only we were back home, that's not helpful.

I sometimes get annoyed that I'm the one 'suffering' while Aaron gets to stay in his home land. But then I imagine moving back home with Aaron and Adelaide, and I see how crushed Mary and John would be... their already-small family being split in half. They love Adelaide so much, and she thinks they're just the bee's knees. I can't imagine it. And when I think seriously about moving home, when we start to think of the logistics, I can see why Aaron would be reluctant. We'd probably move back to Keith or Bordertown, so we'd be surrounded by a bunch of yobbos and bogans... not exactly Aaron's type of place.

Maybe it's that I'm more adaptable and flexible than he is. I never thought about that. I don't feel it very much, but I guess I kinda am. A lot of people have told me how much they admire me for moving halfway across the world from my home and family, and a lot of the time I just brush it off, joking that "love makes you do some crazy things". I don't see it as something admirable. I love Aaron, so I'm here. Simple as that. It's nothing I've worked hard for, or aimed for all my life. I fell in love, and now I'm here. It just happened. I know it's not really as simple as all that, but that's what it comes down to. If I'm really as homesick as this blog shows (and I'm sure I am), then it must be an insurmountable love that's keeping me here. And I know I've got that in Aaron. What a guy. <3

Well. I'm not sure exactly what this post was meant to be. It kinda went around in circles, and so if you're still with me, here at the end, I commend you. If I could give you a cookie, I would.