This may sound a tad sappy and pukey but I love my kids. There, I said it. I love them, I don’t just love them, and I want to eat them up. I love them so much that I feel guilty and scared. Guilty because I am a Jew, I always feel guilt. And scared because I am neurotic as well as a Jew and every time I get too happy I have a tendency to shoot myself down. Like when I first started dating Jeff, I fell head over heels in love, I mean I LOVED him. I knew it the second he kissed me. I was nutty about this guy. And when we got engaged, I felt guilty that I was so happy. Guilty that my best friend at the time measured her self worth by whether or not she had a boyfriend. She went out with these total losers and eventually married one of them just so she could say she was married. I am not afraid of saying my true feeling about her because I know she does not read this blog and if she did she is too proud to tell me that I am wrong. She married a jerk that beat her up and cheated on her and actually told her that he never loved her. He made her give up her friends and even though her friends gave her an intervention, she blamed them for not trusting her love. But he still knocked her around, humiliated her in public and screwed around, but hey, she could at least say she was married. She of course, no longer speaks to me because I do not support her and her husband hates me.ANYWAY, back to me. After the guilt wore off, then came the fear. The fear that I was too happy, that something was going to happen because I was too happy. This is how I feel about my children. I knock on wood all the time when I look at them or when they are snuggling up to me or just even sleeping. They are such cool little girls. If I were 8 I would want to be Alyssa’s friend and if I were 4 then I think Emma would be a groovy little playmate. But then again, I am their mommy.