Evan is an addict and I am his pusher. He acts like he isn’t the least bit ready to wean off his drug of choice. I think he would be perfectly content with me showing up at school to give him a fix. I supplied all of my children past their first birthdays, but they reached a point where they were no longer interested. No such indicators with Evan. Night time is the worst. At night, I am the human pacifier and attempts to separate or use a placebo only cause screams of withdrawal from my little junkie. It’s been almost two years now and I am so, unbelievably, mind-numbingly tired. I really expect to get up one morning and find that my breasts have run away from home. I was never interested in leaving my babies with relatives and going away for the weekend, but Evan will be two in May. I think he’s old enough to spend a night without me. Can Evan and I go to a rehab with nutritionists, personal trainers, massages and therapy to get us past this addiction? No? Then how many more days until Doug and Noah come home?