And I am sitting here thinking. I have this time, precious time that I know will not be here forever. Time to engage. Time to visit. Time to talk. Time to understand. And all I do is think. I watch from the periphery. I do what needs to be done but I live in my head.
And I'm irritated. My thinking time is being disrupted with Sam yelling at Henry - ordering him around. Henry has non-stop babble. He is a kid who can carry on a conversation with no one but himself - and he does all the time. It is never quiet.
But I shouldn't be thinking. I shouldn't be wondering how I got to this place. I shouldn't be arguing with Sam, but I am.
All. The. Time.
The angst around here. Boys fighting with boys.
"Get out of my room."
"Put my video games away."
"Wash your hands before you use the controller - it's all greasy now."
And I think, how did I get here?
"Mom." Interrupted again.
But I should be here. The problem is that I'm not.
**Post inspired by Just Write.**