111412 #human God that sounds so gay. Ha ha. Today Millie said I love the others more than her. Megan said she does everything wrong (again). Libby cried at bedtime because when she asked if she would have to have money out of her jar for not being quiet, I said be quiet. Cecilia actually had a pretty good night but she cusses like a damn sailor. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Is there nowhere I can go in this desperate alley of a house that doesn't have some visual or aural or psychic ticking? Hey wait--today I read you're supposed to count your blessings, so, let's just remember how horrible this house USED to be in the noise department, and maybe the stupid bird clock isn't so bad after all. I could take it down. Hmm. Wonder if the girls would care. Is that really the issue, though? Would I care? Actually, yeah, I think I'm ready to be rid of the damn thing. I think. I think. I think. Tick. Tick. Not sure, though. Maybe it has something to do with my guilt. Maybe it has something to with her soul. Maybe it has something to do with the way I feel more like her mother than her husband, if only in the way I can't forget that she was a child once, too. That she had innocence and hope and laughter and sweetness, and it was crushed by forces, powers beyond her control. Who is she? Is she the criminal, or was she a victim long before I met her? And the crucial part: *is the child still in there, horrified, scared, alone?* Because I don't know how I can handle that.