I'm missing it. My time with these little ones is so limited. They grow faster and faster. They are cuter than I ever imagined. They love to play and have fun. They love me I can tell and waiting for me. I'm wanting to be up narrating a fantastic adventure while we jump over couch cushions and hide under blankets. But I'm not with them. I'm in the middle of a busy street, concentrating on keeping between the solid yellow lines and there is a voice yelling at me in a thick accent. It's demanding I solve mathematic equations or it will throw tomatoes at me and I will lose balance and fall into traffic's way. Only the voice is actually my child's and she is saying she wants me and needs me and it feels like she is tightening a rope around my neck. Each shriek and whine tightens my chest. I never want to get out of bed. I'm doing the best I can, which isn't good enough. I am being cheated of my life by my brain chemistry.