I feel sometimes as though I'm going crazy because I can't control the children. Then I realize I do have a loud voice, and I have a very loud clap (thank you, band, for teaching me to be a great section leader). Making up songs for the children helps too - today my melodious, impromptu song was, "Cookie cookie time, cookie cookie time, yummy in my tummy, yummy in my tummy" - the things one resorts to in order to keep children from wreaking havoc!

Tonight I believe I came the closest to having a seizure than I have since I last had mine. My mind was reeling, and I kept suffering a frightening temporary paralysis; my mind would "jump" as I describe it, my heart would feel as though it stopped for more than just a second (the scariest part of it!), and I would stop moving, whatever I was doing. It eventually passed, and after I got my heart in its proper rhythm, my mind would still be reeling. The real paralysis started when my left leg would give out completely and unpredictably. It was such an odd sensation, and makes me paranoid of the potential of stroke. I'm so young - why would this be happening to me? I also have a splitting migraine.

I would be a good subject for an episode of House M.D., wouldn't I?

...*sigh*

Well, today was a handful, with sixteen (or was it seventeen?) children (DHR staff-to-child ratio, what's that?!?!), one of whom is special needs, one of whom beats up on me (but didn't slap me today!, and I can control him with time-out), one of whom is the whiniest, most dramatic child that ever lived. I am not even kidding. Of course, he is the infamous James, who wakes from his naps and fifteen minutes later, he's screaming for his mommy; the entire time we're outside, he comes up to me, Ms. Vanessa, and Ms. Candice, and says either, "I'm thirsty," "I'm tired," "I'm hot," or "I can't be out here."

These complaints would concern me more were it not for the fact that his mother talks to him as if he's a baby (example: the other day he was coughing and she said very slowly and in a 'tender' babying voice, "Oh, are you coughing? Do you want me to pick you up? Oh, that is so sad," and proceeded to pick him up and nuzzle him. ...seriously, what? There's a difference between caring/loving your child, and babying him/her; consequently, he expects us to baby him, which we don't really believe in by age three, and literally can't do with sixteen other children around!). Half the time, he whines when we've been out there for five minutes or less. It's ridiculous. Let's also throw in that he's one of the worst troublemakers, and shoves people when he's not running ridiculously around the room, jumping on cots, etc.

P.S. Sorry to all my readers for the incessant complaining, except the seizure-type activity. That is actually important; however, James' inability to keep from whining every ten minutes is not.

P.S.S. The only witness to the rapid decline of my mental state is Kevin, because he usually picks up his and Sarah's children as I'm trying to control the kids in the classroom right across from the infant room where Caroline resides during the day, or when I'm traveling outside. My patience wears so thin in those moments, so it's such a relief to see a calm, sane adult. We'll share small talk, then it's back to the Chaos. It's a nice relief, but I'm afraid I'm just going to start babbling incoherently when another adult tries to establish contact.

Where are you, Dr. Gregory House? I need you.

...or your Vicodin.