I feel grinchy. And guilty. I want to get out of this house, alone, totally alone. I went out to dinner last week twice with girlfriends, but it just isn't enough. I want to go to a movie alone, and just like a craving for chocolate that will not be satisfied with jelly beans, I want it, want it, want it! I turn the idea over in my mind, imagine the popcorn, the darkness of the theater, the previews, even the sticky floor. I thought tonight I could go, but then my husband went to the church to study his sermon. I'm home alone, again, and I'm not nearly as clever and cute as that blond kid in the movie. And, of course, I'm not really alone. I'm alone with kids, which an entirely different ballgame, one without umpires and rules.

The four kids are all in the family room, just feet away from me. TwinboyB sits in the recliner, fiddling with the remote control. Babygirl is jabbering to TwinboyA as she crawls off the couch. TwinboyA jabbers back while YoungestBoy flings his head into the couch like he's some kind of crazed World Federation Wrestler. Toys are scattered around the floor--and now the boys are playing soccer with the ball TwinboyB received for Christmas.

I claimed recently that I haven't been bored since 1983 when I graduated from high school, but that was not just an exaggeration, it was an outright lie. I am bored on a daily basis. The things that entertain a one year old just don't entertain me. Sure, it's cute to watch her wash the wall of the bathtub with a cloth. For about one minute. Then, it's just boring for 19 minutes. It's darling to see her pour water on her tummy once. Then, boring the two dozen subsequent times. It's boring, dull, mind-numbing to sit on the floor and entertain a baby for hour upon hour. It's boring not to be able to read, not to be able to write, not to be able to talk to anyone on the phone. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know that I should be "in the moment" and all that, but sometimes the moments just drag from one to the next, and I want to be somewhere else.

Okay, so this is probably just PMS talking, but hey, even PMS is entitled to speak occasionally.

Bah-humbug.