I am Grateful for the Millions of Stories

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That live between the covers of books, transforming them into palaces and hovels alike.  Creating dreams and nightmares, inspiring tears and joy, taking me away to a world not my own. 

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Dear Carly,

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I assume that one day you will come to me wanting to know who you are, where you came from, where your other family is and why they gave you to us.  I offer you little bits of information already, but certainly not crumbs enough to satisfy the appetite.  Perhaps it won't matter to you.  I am assuming a lot, already, about how adoption will impact your life. People often wonder why adoptive parents are hurt when their children seek out biological roots.  I have the answer, and it's very simple.  Adoption - at its core - makes us question the legality, authority, voracity, and validity of parenthood.  For most adoptive parents, first you must come to terms with an issue that strikes at the foundations of mortality: fertility.  From birth, most of us are driven to form families.  First we are nestlings, nurtured and weened and eventually taught to fly.  Then we are nest-builders, filling our lives with the stuff necessary to drive life forwar...
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M is for Mother

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Motherhood is more than carrying a child in your womb for 9 months. Motherhood is more than daily wiping of noses, cleaning of faces, filling of bellies. Motherhood is more than driving, shopping, cleaning, cooking. Motherhood is part of being a Woman, but not all of it. It is part of growing up, for some of us. It is conducive to gaining appreciation, but not for everyone. I was still a child myself, really, when I became a Mother. Joshua and I did a lot of growing up together. We both learned a lot about sacrifice. I learned how to say good-bye to him in the morning, he learned that separation from Mother wasn't such a bad thing after all. Especially since he got to go to Grandma's house (which, sorry Disney, was the happiest place on earth). I learned I could love someone until my heart might burst and be completely enraged at the same time. He learned that the wrinkling of my forehead was not a good sign for anyone. We learned a lot about time, more specifically abo...
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thirty two

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Today is the big day, the day when I roll over from 31 ( just barely old) to 32 (aka old and can't deny it) . The funny thing is, I don't feel 32. I feel just like I did at 22, just maybe a little less scared. There are a few gray hairs tucked in the brown, there are a few wrinkles under the chubbiness of my 'baby face'. I can't say that I'm feeling the aches and pains of a body weighed down by years. I don't. Except perhaps my ankles which are stiff in the mornings from my bad habit of tripping on my own feet . The march of years is fairly kind to us, I think. We feel the same though our bodies keep climbing that mortal hill. Today I'm going to celebrate being alive . I'm going to eat good food, share good company, laugh while I tickle my kids. I'm going to take a long nap (hopefully) and just be glad for one more day, one more week, one more month, one more year. Oh, and I'm going to sport this super cute and sassy hair cut curteousy of ...
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