Still

I feel still. It may be close to stagnant. But still is a better word. I am restless. But tired. I don't long to change things - but in my pseudo drug induced coma I feel like perhaps I should change things. It would be nice if I could change the world. But, in reality I can barely change a diaper. Thank heavens that task is almost done in my life. I did say almost. I bought a potty. That's how close it has come to potty training.

Husband and I took the kids to the Skybox on a Saturday night. It has taken me an entire day to recover. 900 tv's (901 if you count the one in the car) and lots of video games to distract and "entertain" the little buggers. I am so afraid of normal people. They scare me senseless.

I never thought that I would be - acrophobic. I'm not necessarily afraid of open spaces -but afraid of what might happen to my kids outside. Is there a fear of kid-napping... a fear of child molestation? A fear of being spit upon by child-loathing patrons at a sports bar?? If there is a word for that I probably have it. No, I don't think that something like that would happen in public, and worse, on my watch. I do however, have day"mares" about it.

I did try to teach my boy to ride a bike. I am determined to get him two-wheeling before kindergarten (10 days in counting). He refuses. He made me hold my hand on his back and run beside him. (I guess that AND/OR a savage beast would get me running). He busted off BOTH training wheels. The scene from Forrest Gump flew to my mind. I thought of saying it... you know... run, forrest, run. But, I didn't. I just ran beside him and said good job. It wasn't until the dad and the older boys came over that he grew ( this is not the right word) cocky. All of the sudden my support was not needed any more. Yes, he's already a man.

The girl, well, she and I are at odds. She loves the JackintheBox. I hate the JackintheBox. I hate it MADLY. I hate having to stuff the puppet back in the box. But worse, I hate it when it pops up and she doesn't finish winding the end of the song. So, two seconds after I stuff the JackintheBox in the box, it comes whooshing back out.

In the long and short of problems in the world, I know that this is a mild one. If you can even qualify it as a problem. For someone who has tried to create drama out of every small moment in her life, let's count this as drama. I am affected.