There's not room in this bed for all 5 of us, put the seat down, etc.

My kids have taken over my life. I used to have a life of my own, but it is no longer.

I used to ride a motorcycle. I was the heavily tattooed, boisterous, outspoken writer who had a day job. I was a smarty-pants and knew it. I wasn't afraid to tell stupid people just how stupid they were. And if they didn't get it, they were even stupider than I thought. (I met a couple like that, the ones who wanted to talk about their FEELINGS and not the reality of the situations they created.)

This new crop of kids has put a new spin on Me, though. I never thought I would let a few little people distract me from what I am supposed to be doing. But still, this summer, when I should be on Ender's Island having my residency for grad school, I will be at home with the shrieking beasts. I just couldn't stomach the idea of leaving them alone with my husband, as saintly as he is, for ten whole days without any day care. Its a practical decision. I have an infant. He would have to take a week off work during his busiest time of year. I hate that I have to defer this residency, but I know its the best choice I could make.

I still have my tattoos. They aren't going anywhere anytime soon. But I am more hesitant to display them. I used to love looking like a thug/hoodlum/white trash. It was a good way to keep pretentious people from talking to me. The kids' teachers thought I was on the dumb side, I'm sure. It was nice to shock them with my education and vocabulary. I'd leave parent-teacher conferences and see them scratching their heads, having the "What just happened to me" dialogue with themselves. It was funny.

But now I have sold my motorcycle and my Jeep, am selling my husband's bike, and have become self-conscious. I am no longer boisterous or outspoken. In fact, if anything, I have become more introverted. I don't like people looking at me. (I'm afraid they will see what I used to be and wonder how everything changed.)

I don't resent the littles. I think they may have saved me. I wonder, though, if once they get bigger, I will return to the Me I was. Will I kick everyone under the age of six out of my bed, and go back to sleeping with my husband? Will I rant about the toilet seat and how nasty it is to have to touch it before I can sit to pee? Or will I continue to accordion in on myself, until I am completely invisible?