I am too impatient for children. I enjoy "me time" way to much to give it to someone else. Yes, I'm selfish that way but growing up as an only child, all I've had is me time. It's what I'm accustomed to.

There was a time when I wanted kids, that was when I was with R and that want was the first struggle between us. He wanted nothing to do with children, he couldn't even pay attention to his little sister. He was afraid that his mental problems would be passed down and he couldn't deal with that possibility. Some where along the line I changed my mind and decided having kids wasn't for me.

Lastnight I had a dream that I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. The dream was so real and her tiny face so clear, she was absolutely perfect. I held her in my arms and I felt the kind of happiness I have never experienced before.

The years went by in my dream like seconds and she was 6. Hearing her call me Mama melted my heart and then it was over. I woke up and felt incomplete.

I don't know what all that means. I guess it's true, kids are different when they're your own. Right now though, when or if I'm around kids, I'm grateful that they have their own home to go back to and their own parents to torture.