Six years ago, I walked through Pottery Barn Kids and cried.

I was there to purchase a baby gift for a friend who had just given birth to her second child. I looked around the store and soaked in the bedding, the cute rugs, the furniture...cute and quaint things that screamed Babies!

I was just lost in hopelessness. Utterly and completely unable to see how and when we would ever have kids of our own. So I moved through that store slowly and touched everything in sight. When I finally purchased the stuffed dog rocking chair for my friend, I cried. When I drove to the back of the store to have it loaded into my car, my heart plunged. When I tied the pink bow around its neck, I felt desperate pangs of envy. I hated myself for being so petty, so hurt, so barren.

Six years later, we have the most loving, sweet and precious child that we get to raise. We play kickball in the house, make cookies, use the computer together and have water wars in the bathroom. My son frequently empties drawers throughout the house, he draws on walls and he curiously inspects every new item that comes through the door. Last night, he threw up all over me in bed. And lately, he's been grabbing my hand and telling me that He Loves Me.

I love being a Mom.

And I am so thankful that it happened. To us. Before it was too late. Before I gave up and stopped trying.

I've been thinking a lot about the lesson in all of that. Embracing the concept that good things happen over time. Working hard to understand how important it is to never lose hope.

At the edge of despair lies joyful times.

Hold on.
Hold on.
Hold on.

I'll try to hold my high this week when I'm told that my job has been eliminated. I'll do my best to take it in stride, and I'll look forward to what is Next.

Because joy and peace of mind are possible. It isn't too late and it certainly ain't over. Wonderful is still out there within reach.

OK, who in their right mind would eat deep fried chicken skin bites?

Apparently, a lot of people.

http://thisiswhyyourefat.com/page/10

Though, I have to admit...a couple of these dishes look really, really tasty!

I had an odd epiphany today.

The longer I wallow in my grief and sadness...the longer I will stay there.

Hmm. It felt so much wiser in my head, but now I see it written on paper and I just want to say, Duh.

I've been very hard on myself over these last 5 years. Scornful of my inability to save my parents and nurse them through terminal illnesses. Absolutely punishing over the fact that I didn't see my sister's impending death and tell her how much I loved her. Feeling like an abject failure because I was no longer earning a solid income. Worthless and self-conscious because I'm overweight. Unsettled and fearful that more bad things will happen in a single moment. And depressed that I haven't lived up to my full potential.

As I sorted through some photos from late 2006 and relived the moment of when Husband and I were chosen to adopt our son...all of the self-blame and anger and heaviness lifted. I relived the joy of being selected, the wonderment of having a new baby in our home and the simply beauty of holding a swaddled baby in my arms.

I've done the best that I can do and I've done a good job. And who the hell can blame me for breaking down over the loss of my sister, my parents, my father in law and my favorite cat? Who can rightfully be critical of me for fearing my son's unknown future? And why am I so ridiculously hard on myself for not being able to do More throughout all of these life-changing incidents?

I'm done feeling badly about myself, and I'm done feeling as though I've made insurmountable mistakes.

I'm Moving On.

Husband told me that he has a 15 year plan today.

I sat and listened quietly in my stupefaction. I was thrilled on a visceral level, but at the same time, I couldn't stop thinking "It's about time!"

Early in our marriage, I used to book weekend trips specifically so we could carve out a Master Plan together. Husband wouldn't do it. He's a very Live in the Now kind of guy and was perfectly happy drifting along in any 'ol direction. Retirement? Doesn't think about it. Moving to different house? Not happening now so won't talk about it.

A couple of years back, our COBRA ran out and it was impossible to discuss it with him. He didn't have any urgency to get a job or health care coverage because in that moment, we still had insurance.

Now, he wants to bang-out a 15 year plan.

I've waited a long time for this. I am going to enjoy every second of the process.

I am shocked by the number of age spots on my hands. My skin is starting to get crinkly on the backs of my hands and my fingers are looking wrinkled and slightly shiny...something that I associate with my grandmothers.

How did this happen?

I have been so consumed by life in recent years, that I have failed to recognize how quickly I was aging. Now I'm looking at myself and thinking, "OMG. Reverse! Reverse!"

Ever-so-slowly, there are these weird lines forming around my mouth. So despite waxing and bleaching, I still look like Tom Selleck...which is not a good look for a woman/mother who has to hang out with other mothers at least 10 years younger... because she is OLD. And spotty.

And I don't even want to touch on the effects of gravity.

My love and inner spirit seem boundless and suspended in a place where there are no clocks or gradual decay.

What a strange dichytomy.

The birthday party was almost like a dream come true. I sat back in the room and watched a group of sweet, giggling kids blow horns, make art and eat huge pieces of cake. Then they rumbled over who got the reds balloons, stomped their feet and ran out of the place laughing and sorting through their goodie bags.

The laughter and playfulness were precious. I've got tons of silly photos. They are the best.

Seriously, how did we ever get so lucky?

I am so blessed.

A Complex Path

I was thinking about being a Good Parent yesterday when I booked my son's party at the local jumpy jump room.

Mom never threw a birthday party for me, which I ended up resenting. Therefore I will not repeat that pattern with my son. Does that make me a Good Parent...or even a Better Parent?

It eases my emotional strife but Son doesn't know the difference.

Will he look back at his life and remember all of the things I didn't do much the way I look back at my own childhood?

In my early twenties, I had come to peace with my family and upbringing and forged forward in my life unaffected.

Then came the wedding persecution, the dna test, the psychotic behavior, the sickness, my attempts to rescue and the ultimate loss. I made it through my traumatic childhood and then got KO'd in my adulthood.

And I'm angry.

For having to put up with all of that shit. For not being able to manage turmoil and a thriving career at the same time. For breaking down and losing my self. For not being able to pull it together, have kids or at least start the adoption process earlier. For squandering so much opportunity and ending up here. Low level career. My son in daycare (preschool is a feel-better name). For allowing myself to live in anger and resentment. That's something like Anger Squared or to the nth degree.

I should have done Better.

And all these thoughts roll through my brain as I mull over cake toppers for my son's birthday party.

Something so simple and yet...

It's an unbelievably gorgeous day. Stunning, pink-hued sunrise. A squirrel in the pine tree just off the upstairs deck. Sprinklers running in sync that provide a cool mist in the air. A mug of hot coffee and a handful of cashews.

Sweet.

I have a secret.

One that I don't talk about with my husband. Similar to the way I don't want to talk about right-wing talk radio. I am a liberal conservative and talk radio - while important - just doesn't interest me. I'm tired of listening to extremists on both sides who exist on Shock Appeal. Thanks, Howard. You've had a noteworthy impact on American culture.

But I digress.

I am going to link to an article that is part of a collection that I just couldn't stop reading. And this particular essay talks to me.

A lot of people will tell me that I am not a True Christian. (My husband included.) And that's OK because they aren't the Final Judge...and I respect that they have their own opinion, their own path.

http://www.newsweek.com/id/212155